


Mutant League Tangents: Redux

by StarlitSky



Series: After The Championship [7]
Category: Mutant League (Cartoon)
Genre: AO3 exclusive, Continuation, Drama, Engagement, F/M, Family, Friendship, Humor, One-Shots, Pregnancy, Romance, Sequel, Wedding, conclusion, finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitSky/pseuds/StarlitSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A followup series of one-shots taking place after Whole: Twenty Years Later, which needs to be read in order for any of this to make any sense. R&E and much love to any and all of my readers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And Life Starts Over Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed gives Lexie a special gift. Takes place shortly after OW: TYL. Rated G.

"Okay, Eddie," Ed told himself as he faced himself in the mirror, "you can do this."

The image reflected back to him looked nervous--and a little different. His hair, pulled back in the usual ponytail, was smoother than usual. Instead of an old t-shirt, he was wearing a snug black sweater under his leather jacket. He was wearing clean jeans that didn't have worn cuffs or loose strings sticking out of the seams. And his boots were actually shiny.

"Never thought we would get to this point, did you," he mused, absently tugging at his jacket.

He never thought he would be alone in his bedroom talking to his reflection, either. Feeling silly, he turned away from the mirror, grabbed his keys and headed out to his car. He also had a new bike in the garage, but he was picking up not one but two passengers today, so he left it in favor of his sedan.

With a tension that caused his hands to grip the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, he drove the relatively short distance to Lexie's apartment and pulled up out front. Lexie was already waiting near the curb; she flashed a happy smile as she hurried to open the passenger door and hop in.

She looked fantastic--as if she could ever look anything else. As always, she was dressed simply yet elegantly, today in a white peasant blouse, a flowing pale blue skirt and a pair of espadrille wedges with blue ankle straps. Ordinarily, he would have mentally pegged them as a weird pair of sandals with clunky heels that looked like they were made out of material better suited for a braided basket or something, but...when you were dating a model, and had a relative that used to be one, you kind of picked up the lingo.

"So, Mister Writer," Lexie said in that purring kind of voice that made his hair stand on end, "where to?"

"Oh, I thought we'd hit the pet store first," Ed responded casually.

Her smile faded, and a flicker of something--he was pretty sure it was an 'are you crazy?' look--crossed her face. "Not that pet store," he added hastily. "It's in another part of town, and I'm just dropping by to pick something up. All right?"

A tiny tremor of nerves passed through his hands, making him grip the steering wheel tighter again. He'd been planning this for weeks, and he sure hoped everything went down the way it was supposed to.

"I suppose," Lexie said doubtfully. "And then what?"

"Then we can go somewhere to eat, take a walk...doesn't matter to me."

He spoke as casually as he could, but he was pretty sure she could tell he was up to something. Her golden eyes scrutinized him a moment before she relaxed in her seat and gazed out the window. Ed eventually turned a corner and pulled up outside a small, glitzy-looking pet shop, where a clerk was waiting outside with a small white box...just as scheduled.

"Be right back," he promised in a cheeky voice.

He took a moment to lean over and peck her cheek before darting out and accepting the box. Everything was already arranged and paid for, so the clerk went back inside with a nod, while Ed hurried back to the car. "I decided not to get another dog," he commented as he closed the door and set the box between him and Lexie. "My Aunt Dare talked me into getting a lizard, so I'm looking into getting a Chinese water dragon."

Lexie blinked once, clearly perplexed. "But you don't have it yet?"

"Not yet. They take a lot of extra care, so I'm still working on setting up a good terrarium. No," he said, grinning as he nudged the box closer. "This is for you."

Now she looked surprised--and a little wary, but she leaned closer and tipped the box lid open. A second later she let out a startled--and delighted--laugh as a squirming bundle of white fur leaped out and into her lap. "Oh, Eddie, she's adorable!"

Ed laughed with her, pleased with her reaction. The squirmy, yapping puppy looked sort of like a bichon and a poodle, but it had an exotic mutant feature: dual tails, which wagged like a pair of pompoms, both simultaneously and separately as she hopped to lick Lexie's face. "You're so sweet, Eddie," she sighed, hugging her new pet. "I just love her."

"Don't forget to check the collar," Ed told her casually.

Lexie tucked the hyper bundle under one arm and looked, searching for a name-tag. When she didn't find one she frowned in puzzlement for a moment...and then she flew a hand to her mouth with a quiet gasp. "Oh..."

Ed watched, breath held, as she gaped at the object hanging from the rhinestone collar--a white gold ring with a line of white diamonds circling the band, with another circle surrounding the main stone; a canary yellow diamond. The perfect ring for his golden goddess.

At least, he hoped it was.

"Well?" he said softly, as she continued to gawk breathlessly. "What do you say?"

Eyes moistening, Lexie blinked at him a moment--and then launched herself at him, puppy and all. "Yes," she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. "Yes, yes, _yes_."

Ed felt a rush of relief and happiness that brought moisture to his own eyes, and he pulled his new fiancée closer to him, softly kissing those full, plump lips of hers. He barely noticed the puppy pawing at his arm, seeking attention as the two of them clung to each other.

As she rested her head on his shoulder, Lexie asked, "Do your parents know?"

Ed gave his head a small shake. "I didn't tell a soul. You know, just in case you didn't say yes."

Lexie scoffed quietly and tightened her arms around his neck. "Like I could say anything else. You're the most amazing person I know, Edwin Justice. And I love you with all my heart."

Ed kissed her cheek as he stroked her soft curls. "Love you, too," he murmured.

They held each other a little longer before finally parting, both of them taking a moment to dry their eyes before settling in their seat. "We should probably tell them," Lexie noted as he started the car.

"Right now?" he wondered as he pulled away. "There's no rush. We can stop for lunch first."

Lexie let out a laugh as she settled her new puppy in her lap, while still gawking at the ring dangling from her collar and looking dazed. "I don't think I could eat a bite right now," she said, resting a hand over her stomach.

Ed was still feeling a few butterflies himself. Smiling, he reached over and took her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingers. He frowned a second later and didn't let go of her hand until he paused at a stoplight.

"Here--we need to make this official."

He plucked the ring off the collar, and Lexie, with a shy smile, extended her ring finger for him. After placing the engagement ring on her hand, he kissed it again and resumed driving. "I guess we can go see them," he decided.

In fact, he couldn't wait to tell his parents this life-changing news. He had the best, most supportive parents in the world, and he knew they would be delighted to include Lexie as part of their wonderful family.

As he made the turn that would take them to his parents' house, he found himself thinking back, remembering the days shortly after--and before--his parents first adopted him. It felt like a lifetime ago and more, like it had all happened to another person--the person he no longer was. That frightened little boy he used to be, the one afraid to experience life and everything in it, was long gone. He wasn't afraid to try, or to fail, or to try again. His heart felt as wide and open as the sky above them that day, ready and waiting for everything life had in store for the two of them.


	2. Sometimes The Least Obvious Choice Is The Best One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her mind full of sports and keeping her team in top shape, Trina has never really given getting involved with anyone on a long-term basis much thought. Then she happens to bump into someone that abruptly changes her way of thinking--someone who is probably the last person her parents would ever want her to get involved with.
> 
> Takes place a few months after previous tangent. Rated T.

With a loud groan, Trina leaned against the wall of the locker room shower. She _ached_ , but she was too happy to care. Her team had won another game yesterday--they had yet to lose, in fact. To make sure that they never did--or at least make darn sure that they didn't for a good long while yet--she had called everyone in for an extra-long day of practice, and without the aid of their coach, to boot.

After all, she _was_ team captain. She needed to take initiative now and then.

She throbbed from head to toe, but she was in one piece, so she skipped taking a soak beyond spending an extra long time running hot water over her aching muscles. Sure, being Rejuvenated would probably take away the pain quicker...but pain built character. Made one stronger. That's what Thrasher would tell her, anyway.

With another groan, she dragged herself out of the shower and gingerly dried herself off, then just as gingerly wiggled into her jeans and pulled her long-sleeved t-shirt over her head. After slipping on her sneakers, she found that her fingers could barely grip the laces, let alone tie them properly. She opted for a sloppy, kindergarten-worthy bow and hoped no one would notice, then slipped on her denim jacket and left the Dome.

She wished she had arranged for someone to pick her up, but she hadn't, so she grudgingly dragged herself across the parking lot to her car. Her hands trembled with ebbing adrenaline as she started the ignition, and jaw-popping yawns started as she steered out of the lot.

She hadn't gone very far before she decided that driving when she was this sore and exhausted was a bad idea. She could barely keep her eyes open, let alone steer in a straight line. After groggily debating for a moment, she turned off the main road and headed to a quiet spot she knew of, one that Uncle Bones had taken her to many times when she was small. It was a quiet, pretty place, with lush scenery, a fishing pond--and plenty of benches to relax on. Grandma Emmy said that it used to be a lot fancier, years ago, but over time it had been made under until it was a glorified extension of the nearby nature preserve. It was still nice, and relaxing on a bench by the water sounded like a plan about now.

She didn't quite make it that far, instead dozing off in the driver's seat shortly after turning the engine off. A loud honking sound made her jerk awake a short while later and flail in surprise.

A second later she let out a laugh and rubbed her eyes, glad no one had been around to see that. She had fallen asleep with her face on the steering wheel and had leaned on the horn.

Thankfully, the park looked empty today so, with another yawn, Trina got out of the car and ambled down one of the paths. She paused, eyes on the clear sky above her, and gave a tentative stretch. Her muscles screamed at her, so she stopped before stretching too far and went to sit on one of the benches. It was so quiet, so peaceful here today, it wasn't long before she was nodding off again.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, but when she opened her eyes again, she felt a lot better. Only as she covered a small yawn and brushed her black hair out of her eyes, she noted silently that she hadn't woken up on he own; something nearby had roused her.

Nothing big, and nothing loud. Just a presence, one that had come close enough that her innate Justice instincts perked up. Not that much was likely to happen in the middle of a family-friendly park…but that was the Justice instincts of self-preservation for you.

Absently stretching her shoulder muscles a little, Trina glanced around--and quickly spotted a figure standing a few feet away, looking out over the water. A figure that sent a feeling of unease through her.

Not that he was bad-looking. In fact, he was dressed nicely in a dark gray suit jacket and black-brown slacks, with leather boots peeking out from beneath the pant cuffs. He had his sleeves partly rolled up and his hands in his pockets, his eyes gazing distantly off into the horizon. He even had a tie on, though it had been tugged at so it hung loosely around his neck.

Feeling her eyes on him, he turned his head and smiled. "Hey."

Trina swallowed. "Hi," she returned--and almost cringed as her voice nearly caught in her throat.

Not that he scared her. He wasn't even a stranger to her--she knew exactly who he was. He had almost been an athlete once, years ago, but he had quit sports after graduating from high school. He'd gone on to college and garnered several degrees in various medical fields, eventually graduating to become--of all things--a veterinarian.

Trina had never seen him in person before, but she had heard about him for years, since even when they didn't go on to be famous athletes themselves, the children of big names in the Mutant League were still well-known around the Dome. Trina had heard of this one in name only, but that was all she needed to know that this was him.

Madboy--AKA Madman's son.

The thought gave her a flicker of nerves, which she hoped didn't show. Her parents and everyone else in her family tried to protect her--and the rest of the younger generation--from dark stories from the past, but she still heard things, either from one of them when they thought she wasn't listening, or from other athletes over the years. She didn't know any details--and neither did anyone else except the parties directly involved--but she had known for years that Madman had done something bad to her mom.

It was a long time ago and nobody talked about it anymore--her mom even used to talk civilly to the dog-like mutant during the handful of times they bumped into each other before he retired--but knowing that something had happened--and having a pretty good idea what that something was--still put Trina on edge when she saw him.

Seeing his son did the same thing.

She tried not to let the feeling show, but he ran a hand between his pointed ears and said, "Sorry, am I bothering you?"

Trina wanted to kick herself. Never show weakness, she reminded herself, no matter what. Being off the field didn't matter; she was a Kidd with Justice blood in her veins. She never backed down from anyone or anything, and _nobody_ could intimidate her. Not unless she let them.

"No," she said hastily, sliding off the bench. "I was just taking it easy."

Putting his hand back in his jacket pocket, Madboy smiled faintly at her. Trina noticed that he didn't have to look down anywhere near as much as her teammates did when they looked at her. Pretty much everyone in the League was taller than her, so it was kind of nice to see a non-norm that didn't tower over her for a change.

"I'd heard about how you were keeping up the Monsters' status as number one team in the League," he commented. "Congratulations. Can't say I've actually tuned in to a game in a while, but..."

Trina couldn't help feeling surprised as she listened to him speak. She had only seen Madman in person a few times, but she had seen plenty of his footage on TV, so she knew as well as anyone that the jackal-esque mutant was a little, well...manic was probably too small a word, but it was the only one she could think of. His son, on the other hand, spoke in soft tones, even with the underlying gruffness in his voice. Looking at the way he carried himself, and how he glanced down shyly, he struck her as being, well--gentle.

"Um, thanks," she said, not knowing what else to say.

"Trina, right? I'm Madboy."

"I know--I mean, nice to meet you."

Embarrassed, she quickly took the hand he was holding out to her and shook it. There were a lot of different skin-types in the League--pebbly like Malone's, or scaly like her own--but this was actually the first time she ever shook hands with someone who had a fine layer of fur.

She had also never met an actual veterinarian before, so she had absolutely no idea how to continue the conversation. If it didn't involve punting, kicking, or knocking your opponent's limbs into next week, she was lost.

But Madboy didn't look interested in filling the air with pointless chatter. Instead, he looked perfectly content to turn back to the water, a soft smile on his face as he gazed out at how the sunlight was glinting off the quiet waves. "It's nice here," he decided. "I may have to come here more often."

Still smiling, he glanced at her. "Do you?"

"Um...no," she answered honestly. "I think some of my family does, though."

It had been an awfully long time since she came here for a fishing excursion. It had been an awfully long time since she did anything just for recreational purposes, period--but that was the kind of sacrifice a team captain had to make.

"I'd better get going," she said, glancing at her watch. "More practicing tomorrow, so..."

She had to get her rest--and it was time for lunch, or so her stomach suddenly reminded her loudly. "Sorry about that," Trina said, laughing a little.

"Don't be," said Madboy, laughing with her. "It's been years, but I still remember how sweating on the field builds up an appetite."

His ghostly eyes studied her face for a moment. "I was about to head to lunch myself. Want to join me?"

Trina absently glanced at her watch again. "No, I have to..."

Wait, did he just ask her out? She sure hoped he meant that in a casual, from a former athlete to a current athlete kind of way...because anything else was just plain weird, and in more ways than one.

"I have to meet my aunt," she said, with feigned apology in her voice.

"Thrasher?" he guessed.

"No," Trina said, laughing again, "the one that's only a hair older than me."

Actually, she hadn't seen much of Thrasher recently beyond catching an occasional glimpse of her at the center. She had kept mostly to herself since retiring from sports, but in the last few weeks, she had grown even more reclusive, something that Gina had commented about a few days ago. Whatever was up with her, even her favorite baby sister didn't know.

"Guess I'll see you around, then," Madboy said as she headed back to her car.

"Sure," Trina called absently before driving away. Though she didn't see herself hanging out with the son of the most psychotic mutant athlete to ever live, no matter how gentle-natured he seemed.

* * *

"You know, it wouldn't hurt to take a break for once," Gina commented as Trina dragged herself out of bed Sunday morning--make that tumbled out of bed.

"Can't," she mumbled, face pressed to the plush carpet. "We've got a game next week."

"Mutant or not, you shouldn't push yourself so hard," Gina said sensibly. "I bet your team would love for you to let them sleep in for a change."

"They'll love me more for retaining the cup this season," Trina insisted, though her aching body firmly disagreed. "Okay, maybe just this once."

After calling her team to tell them practice was canceled for the day--she didn't think they had cheered that hard over their last win--Trina went back to sleep for a few more hours. When she woke up later that afternoon she felt refreshed--enough to climb successfully out of bed this time and head downstairs.

It didn't look like Gina was around, so she grabbed a quick bite before changing and heading out to her car. It was nice to not have to be anywhere for a change, so she took a leisurely drive around town, scoping out her favorite haunts.

No one she knew seemed to be hanging around today. After thinking about it for a moment, she turned a corner and headed down a street she hadn't gone down recently, but knew better than any other place in the world.

The narrow road was quiet, with a handful of houses on one side and a large, scenic park on the other. She, Gina, and Eddie used to practically live here, especially the section made specifically for dog owners. There were winding dirt paths, towering trees with branches that stretched overhead like fragrant green canopies, ponds and streams with footbridges, and a plethora of playground equipment. There were even pavilions full of picnic benches and several gazebos for relaxing in, and the decorative bushes, statues and fountains were a pleasure to look at.

Trina parked her car at the curb and headed up the grass-covered hill, pulling in a quiet breath of air that filled her lungs with a burst of fragrance. Cheerful laughter sounded in the distance, puppies yapped, and birds sang in the trees. For a moment she felt like shedding the last decade of her life or so, kicking off her shoes and skipping barefoot in the sand...and then she saw something that made all thought of frivolity fade from her mind. Something she never thought she would see outside of a movie screen.

A few feet away was a wooden bench next to a stone drinking fountain, and sitting on the bench was Madboy. That wasn't the surreal part--though she was surprised to see him here, and so soon after running into him the other day--and neither was the fact that at a glance it looked like he was quietly talking to his cupped hand.

For a second she thought that that was what he was doing--either that or counting a pile of change she couldn't see--but then she spied a tiny brown shape sitting on his palm. A chipping sparrow, to be precise, one of the tiniest birds in the area after hummingbirds.

Again, it was not a sight she'd ever thought she'd see up close and in person, and yet Madboy was stroking the bird's speckled breast with a gentle finger and talking in a hushed tone like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Giving her head a shake, Trina took a step closer. The sparrow promptly let out an unhappy chirp and flew away. Trina cringed. "Sorry."

"That's all right," Madboy said mildly. "My hand was getting stiff anyway."

He gave a small stretch, then rested his arms on the back of the bench and looked at her. "Taking a break for once?"

"For once," she agreed with a grin. "Wait, how do you know my training schedule is usually non-stop hardcore?"

Madboy smiled. "Just a hunch. I've been coming here every Sunday for months, but this is the first time I've seen you."

"Oh."

Feeling silly, Trina absently poked at a flower drooping near her feet with the tip of her tail. She was debating whether or not she should stick around or take a walk when a pained yelp rang through the otherwise peaceful afternoon air. "Uh-oh," sighed Madboy, getting to his feet. "Sounds like I don't have the day off after all."

He headed over to where a couple of small kids were tossing a Frisbee around to a puppy. As he neared, one of them scooped the puppy up and looked ready to cry; while Trina watched, Madboy knelt and looked the little animal over. "He'll be okay," he assessed, "it's just a sprained paw. Take him home and put him to bed, and try to keep it cold. If it keeps swelling, give me a call."

Looking cheered, the two kids thanked him and ran off. Chuckling, Madboy straightened again. "Cute pup," he commented.

Trina snickered and flicked her tail. " _You're_ the pup."

A second later she cringed. She may have inherited the Justice iron-will, but boy, did she ever inherit the Kidd knack for sticking one's foot into one's mouth.

But Madboy just smiled wryly at her. "What's that make you?" he wondered, eyeing her green scales.

"Ummm...rude?" she supplied sheepishly.

"Yeah, that'll do," he decided, though he didn't look insulted.

Trina bit her lip and absently glanced off into the distance--in the direction of her parents' house, to be exact. "Do you have someplace to be?" Madboy wondered.

"Not exactly," she admitted. "I was just thinking about visiting my parents."

Madboy let out a quiet chuckle, his gaze turning distant. "I can't even remember the last time my dad and I spoke."

Trina couldn't help blinking in surprise. She saw her parents so often she couldn't imagine not being able to remember the last time she talked to them. She could remember it exactly right now. They called her up right after the most recent win, then took the entire team out to dinner to celebrate.

"I'm--sorry to hear that," Trina faltered, not sure what else to say.

Madboy slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "I'm used to it. He tries, but my dad can't honestly say that he's proud of me these days. He was supportive when I fumbled through high school, but when I quit sports completely after I graduated, we had a big falling out. As his only child it was up to me to continue the athletic legacy, so...yeah. He's pretty disappointed with me."

The very thought made Trina's heart sink into her shoes. She couldn't even clearly picture it, honestly. Sure, her own dad had crowed about her athletic abilities since before she had fully learned how to walk, but he was doing the same with Sunni's musical talent. She was barely three-and-a-half, but she already had a pretty singing voice, and she loved playing the piano. Their dad already bragged that within a few years, she would be up onstage with their mom.

She had never thought about it before--she never needed to--but now Trina realized that her own career choice didn't matter. She could have pursued music too, or something else altogether. Her dad would have supported her one-hundred-percent no matter what.

"I'm sorry," she said again.

Madboy gave another shrug. "Like I said, I'm used to it."

At this point Trina would have liked to shift the subject to his mother, citing her support for him--but she knew from locker room gossip that she had run off with someone else shortly after the quake and never looked back. She was pretty sure neither he or his father had seen or heard from her in at least ten years.

Grunting, she rubbed her eyes. "Okay, this is way too depressing," she muttered. "And it's my fault, so I let's say I owe you lunch and call it even."

* * *

"What's up with you?" Blunt wondered after practice a few days later.

"Nothing," Trina responded absently as she closed her locker.

"You sure? 'Cause you seem a little distracted."

"Just tired. I'll catch you later, okay?"

Though to be honest, her mind _had_ wandered a little too much today. She had only meant it as an apology for being rude that day in the park, but she ended up enjoying her lunch with Madboy--maybe even a little too much.

It didn't matter how soft-spoken and sweet he was; it was still weird. But it really didn't seem like he had a clue what his father had done to her mother--that nameless thing that to this day made her own father cringe whenever he heard Madman's name--but even if that thing had never happened...it was still weird. He was over ten years older than her. That definitely entered the realm of things that would make her parents frown.

That didn't stop her heart from giving a happy little thump when she spotted him in the parking lot. "Are you waiting for me?" she asked teasingly as she neared.

"Why not?" he asked with a smile.

"Well..."

I'm a little young for you, she wanted to point out. "Don't have you more puppies to bandage?" she asked instead.

"Not today. And I thought I was the pup," he added with a grin.

"Oh, that's right," she amended, with a cheeky grin of her own.

Great, she thought dryly. Flirt a little harder, why don't you.

"Looks like practice is over for today," Madboy noted. "You hungry?"

"No," Trina said--just before her stomach growled.

Madboy snickered. "Athletes are _always_ hungry after coming off the field. Come on, my treat this time."

Trina bit her lip as she looked down at her sneakers. "I shouldn't," she murmured.

Madboy looked disappointed. "Why not?"

Trina fumbled for an excuse. "I have to..."

Why not scare him away with the truth? a voice inside her suggested.

A scary idea, but she plunged ahead. "Honestly? You're the nicest guy I've ever met, so if we keep spending time together, I'm probably going to fall in love with you."

She waited, eyes still on her sneakers, listening for the sound of dirt crunching as he took off in a hurry. Instead, she felt a soft touch to her face as her chin was tilted up. Madboy's smile was subtle, but there was a glint of mischief in his white eyes.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

* * *

Trina fidgeted nervously as she surveyed herself in her bedroom mirror. She was glad that Gina wasn't home; no doubt she would ask what the heck her problem was. She never worried about her looks, but today, she scrutinized herself from head to toe, glad for once that she had inherited her mother's sense of style.

After changing about a dozen times, she finally decided on a pair of black leggings under a short dark purple skirt, a wide black belt with a silver buckle, a snug black tank top and a short purple jacket. She'd accessorized with a handful of silver necklaces, along with a pair of leather boots that laced up and had silver studs up the sides.

There was something both modern and vintage about the look--though she was sure if she was photographed she would satisfy none of the so-called fashion gurus out there. She'd given up on them ever figuring out that she didn't give a crap about fashion.

Although she kind of wished she'd taken the time to get her ears pierced. She'd never thought about it before, seeing how they could easily be pulled out on the field--and probably the rest of her ear with them--but right now she would have kind of liked the boost of femininity they gave. Instead, she opted to arrange her hair so it framed her face instead of pulling it back like she usually did, then gave herself a little shake before heading downstairs and outside, where she stood waiting at the curb.

No one knew it, not even Gina, but she and Madboy had been going out for a couple of weeks already. Looking back, she wasn't even sure how it happened. It just kind of did. But whether they went out to a restaurant, or stayed in all afternoon at the animal clinic he worked at, she always enjoyed being with him.

She knew it was probably redundant to mention it again, but he was the gentlest person she had ever met. He had such a quiet, comforting way about him, all the animals he worked with automatically trusted him--people, too. He even joked once that he had been open to being a human doctor, but studying for it took too much time and brains, so he opted for animals instead.

Trina could definitely see him working in an actual hospital though--especially with kids. Though soft-spoken, he liked to joke, and he never failed to make people laugh...herself included.

Quietly deny it inside all she wanted, she was growing more and more certain that her warning was coming true.

As always, her heart gave a happy thump when she saw his dark blue car round the corner. With a sigh, she hopped down from the curb and met him as he paused near the driveway. "Where to?" he asked as she got in, tucking her tail safely beside her as she closed the door.

"Anywhere is fine with me," she mumbled absently.

They drove in silence for a while, following their mutually unspoken agreement; keeping away from places they were most likely to be seen by people they knew. She didn't want to hide, but she didn't know how certain people in her life were going to react when they found out about this--and she really wanted to know exactly what 'this' was before she told anyone.

Trina thought that today was as good a day as any to ask.

Hesitantly, she told him to head down a road she knew was a dead end--a place where they weren't likely to be disturbed. Madboy seemed to know what she was thinking and parked beneath the shade of a tree, angling the car so they could watch the sun go down.

"You look great, by the way," he noted, his smile almost shy.

Trina's face warmed pleasantly as she smiled back, absently twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "Thanks. You do, too."

He always did. He wasn't as ripped as an athlete, but he was still fit and toned. Somehow, he managed to look hot even in his veterinarian coat. Tonight he had on jeans, worn sneakers, and an old wind breaker--a perfect combo of cute and sexy.

"I have to ask you something."

Sensing that the mood had turned serious, Madboy rested his arm across the back of the seat and looked at her. "Ask away."

Trina bit her lip for a moment. "Why me?" she asked softly.

He looked away, and for a moment she thought he didn't understand--or that he didn't want to answer. Then he looked at her again, his hand like velvet as he brushed it across her cheek. "Because you're the first person in a long, long time to look at me and not see me as nothing but a failure."

Whatever she'd been expecting him to say, that wasn't it. Her eyes filling, Trina whispered, "You're not. You're..."

There were so many things to say, so many words she could use to describe him. Failure wasn't one of them.

Instead of fumbling with words and sniffling, Trina blinked her eyes dry and scooted closer. It had been a long time since she'd kissed anyone--not since high school--but she did it anyway. It was strange and awkward--his mouth had the same fuzzy velvet feeling as the rest of him--but she didn't care. She kind of liked it, actually.

And there was something he didn't know about her. Now was as good a time as any to let him know, she thought absently. She had made sure a long time ago to not let on about a certain part of her anatomy. She had grown up around the playful nudges and winks that surrounded her dad--sly looks that all referred to one thing. Her dad's nigh foot-long tongue.

It was weird--and pretty gross--to think about, but it was impossible to not be aware, being surrounded by males at work the way she was, that her dad's tongue was an object of extreme envy. Men wanted to have it, women wanted to have it used on them. Her mom got to have sole tongue bragging rights...and Trina got to shrink in embarrassment over it all and made up her mind at a young age to never let on to anyone outside the family that she had the exact same kind of tongue.

She already had to deal with backlash over her looks on the field, so the last thing she needed was a barrage of sexual remarks. As a result her long, forked tongue remained a strict secret...but, she thought absently as she parted her lips and curled it into Madboy's mouth, she was willing to share it with someone who deserved it.

It was a gift Madboy seemed to appreciate, if the low growl he gave meant anything. His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer as his own tongue coiled in her mouth, wide and flat and strange--but in a good way.

Sensitive norms would probably feel sick if they could see them now--a lizard and a dog going at it--but Trina felt elated. Her heart pounded, her skin felt flush and tingly, and her head was swimming. Later, she had no idea how long she'd sat there before she realized she had worked her way into his lap--straddling it, to be exact.

Feeling the need for air, Trina broke away and rested her head on his shoulder, flushed and panting. Madboy closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat as he, too, caught his breath. His hands didn't move from where they still gripped her waist as he let out a shaky laugh. "Sorry if I seem nervous. It's been a while."

Trina gave an absent nod. "Uh-huh. For me, too."

Only she didn't think he was referring just to an impassioned kiss. Her face flushing deeper, she decided not to mention just yet that for her, _that_ wasn't so much as 'it's been a while' as it was 'it's been never.'

It was a little embarrassing to admit at her age--but her mother always assured her it was fine, since she had stayed a virgin until she was in her twenties, too. She had been waiting for the right guy, and she'd known that Trina's dad was that guy.

Waiting for the right guy wasn't the only thing that had Trina keeping her undies firmly on throughout high school, no matter how charming her smattering of boyfriends had been. She also had to contend with that little problem that worried all mutants when it came to sex; finding a partner who wouldn't break, or figuring out ways to work with one who would.

Well, Trina wasn't interested in being stuck giving nothing but lip-service--literally. But since she had gone to school with more norms and fellow mutant-norm hybrids than big, brawny mutants, her father had discreetly pointed out to her once that when it came to that, it was best if she followed his own sexual policy; never get on top.

Trina didn't like that idea. Maybe her day was okay with that, but her? She didn't like the thought of always being the one pinned to the mattress, never being allowed to move or do very much. It was a position of submission, and she was _never_ submissive. So she decided a long time ago that she wasn't getting into bed with anyone who wasn't her equal in every way, including sexually.

As she absently ran a hand down Madboy's toned bicep, her heart gave a little thump at the thought that this wasn't going to be an issue between the two of them. He wasn't an athlete, but he almost was one once, and he remained strong and sturdy--because there were wimpy mutants out there, too, and Madboy definitely wasn't one of them. Trina didn't think he was going to break if they ever slipped into bed together, even if she was on top. She would just have to make sure to be gentle until she knew what he could handle.

She could scarcely believe she was even thinking about this, and when she was still straddled on his lap, to boot. But it came easily, just like her arms around his firm torso, pulling herself close and tight as she cuddled against him. It was so easy, and it felt so _right_. She had never bothered to think about these things with someone before, because she had never been with someone she cared about enough before.

No point in denying the truth, she thought, tightening her hold on him. "I love you, Pup," she said softly.

Madboy's arms wrapped around her tightly, his soft nose brushing her cheek as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Love you too, Scales."

Trina snickered and lightly socked his shoulder. "Funny, real-life romance doesn't go at all how they say it does in books and movies, does it."

"Nope," Madboy agreed, cupping her face and softly pushing her hair back. His eyes were white and featureless, but when they pored over her face like that, she felt they couldn't be more beautiful--just like she never felt more beautiful than when she was under his gaze. "Reality is _always_ better than fantasy," he told her.

Trina shifted so she was sitting comfortably in his lap and settled against his chest. Madboy lifted her hand and laced their fingers together--a different experience than it was for most, since most other couples had the same amount of fingers. She had the standard ten; Madboy had the usual mutant eight. His thumb hooked above hers, and his three fingers slipped between hers so they were fenced between her index and pinkie fingers. Trina tightened those outer fingers, feeling an odd need--odd because he was bigger and older than her--to protect him. Odd, but powerful.

She didn't want him to feel weak and inadequate just because he didn't make the kind of choices other people thought he should. She wanted him to be proud of who he was, because _she_ was proud of who he was. She wanted him to be happy.

She wanted to be the one to help make him happy--she knew she could. She was just worried about how _un_ happy certain people were going to be when they found out about this.

* * *

"I think we've reached the point where we should take the next step in our relationship," Trina noted one day, a few weeks later.

Madboy glanced around, one brow arched. They were in the middle of a stroll through the park near her childhood home, which they made a point of visiting together every Sunday morning. "It's kind of public for my taste, but..."

Trina socked him, and he chuckled. "I meant introducing each other to our families," she scolded.

Madboy's amused look faded. "You mean, to our parents," he said grimly. "I told you, my dad and I don't really speak anymore. I doubt he'd care that I'm seeing someone."

Trina had figured as much, but...

"I'd still like you to meet _my_ parents," she pressed softly, resting her head on his arm.

"I've met Razor before," he noted absently. "Never seen your mother in person, though."

"Well, we wouldn't have far to go, if you decide you're up to it," Trina said, her eyes drifting in the direction of her parents' house. You couldn't see it from here, but it was only a short drive down the road.

She could tell that he was hesitant about the idea, and she knew why. He was worried he wouldn't be seen as good enough for mutant sports' latest rising star, especially not by her dad, one of the greatest mutant athletes who ever lived. There was also the issue of his age...but in all honesty, Trina had yet to notice a difference.

When she was growing up, Trina had a false image of adults, an image they themselves help perpetuate; that they were mature, collected and could control any situation that arose. Now that she was an adult, Trina knew that this image was a load of crap. Most adults weren't any more in control than a five-year-old, and she had learned a long time ago that age rarely equaled maturity.

Sure, her family had mature outlooks on life and had it together better than most, but that didn't mean most of them didn't act with rampant immaturity on a regular basis--particularly her parents. She and her other young relatives were no exception, but Trina felt that their recent trials had made them grow up a lot, more than they probably would have on their own.

Trina had left all her childish worries behind--worries about not being taken seriously because of her looks, or what other people thought of her. She had abandoned all that nonsense and only focused on one thing; making her team the best they could possibly be. To hell with everything else.

Madboy had obviously been through some things that forced him to grow up, too--and at a younger age. But even though she knew he had spent more years on the planet than she had, it never really showed. She liked to think it had a lot to do with her own maturity, but a big part of it was probably the fact that most mutants aged slowly.

Normal mutants and mutant hybrids like herself were no exception--which was ironic, considering how quickly half-breeds came together in the womb. Doctors thought it was because a regular term would be far too taxing on the mother, and so, in a little genetic quirk, mutant babies threw their most vital organs together as rapidly as possible and were then born healthy and whole at a stage and size other babies would be marked premature at.

It was kind of weird, really, but it was normal--an ironic term, to be sure. After birth the babies grew at a relatively normal pace, until the child reached their late teens or so. Once they stopped growing, they also stopped aging noticeably, a trait shared by mutants who originally came into being when the quake hit--like many members of her family. And Madboy.

Athletes had a rougher life than most other mutants, so even though they didn't look all that old when they reached middle-age or so, they started to get tired and usually retired at this point. Even then, they still looked young, though signs of aging varied from person to person. Trina herself didn't look a whole lot different than she had a few years ago. The only noticeable changes that had come once she hit her twenties was a little more definition to her facial features.

It didn't make a difference to her, and she knew that wasn't the issue her parents were going to bring up. And Trina didn't want to bring up the issue they were sure to mention. Madboy didn't know, and she didn't want his relationship with his father to get any more strained. Telling her parents about their relationship was something they had to do, but she didn't want him to wind up hurt because of it.

"I love you," Trina said quietly as she tightened her hold on his arm.

"I love you, too," he murmured, resting his head against hers as they continued to shuffle along the path. "I love you and I want what's best for you. And I'm not sure that that's me."

"Don't do that," she scolded gently. "Don't start believing all the crap that people who think you should be something you're not say. You're the sweetest guy I know and you treat me like a princess. There isn't anyone better out there. Not to me."

Madboy lifted his head, his white eyes clouding. For a moment Trina thought he might actually start crying, but then he swooped her into his arms and meshed his mouth with hers. Moaning softly, Trina wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, not caring in the least that they were standing in a very public place. So what if they were seen; she didn't care anymore. She was proud of what they shared and she didn't want to hide it anymore.

It was a notion she hastily regretted as she heard someone loudly clear their throat. Guiltily, she and Madboy broke apart--and Trina felt like her heart, beating so wildly a moment ago, had just come to an unpleasant halt.

Standing a few feet up the path from them, hands clasped and eyebrows lifted curiously, were Ed and Lexie. "Well, hi, cuz," Ed greeted dryly, as Lexie's puppy strained on her leash and tried to sniff the two of them. "Anything new? Like, anything you should probably let your parents in on?"

Ed's tone had a vague hint of disapproval. He knew about that nameless something, too.

Trina withheld a sigh as she lifted her eyes to Madboy's. "We were just heading over there, actually."

* * *

"What are you _thinking_?" Trina's father hissed at her.

With his tongue flicking out like that, he looked less like a lizard and more like an angry snake--a deadly cobra ready to strike. But Trina faced him fearlessly, because it wasn't _her_ he wanted to strike at.

The moment she and Madboy stepped through the front door, Trina thought her dad might actually faint. He had turned several shades of green lighter and swayed on his feet--and then his eyes focused and he realized that it wasn't Madman who was with her. Madboy wasn't as muscular or nearly as tall as his father, and her own father had relaxed--but only for an instant. The next thing she knew, he had grabbed her arm and dragged her off into the nearby kitchen, with her mother trailing at their heels and closing the door behind them.

Now she was clutching her husband's arm, trying to get him to calm down. "Raze, take it easy," she said gently.

Sheesh, thought Trina as she eyed the two of them. Given her larger than life personality, it was easy to forget just how tiny Mom was, but seeing her standing next to Dad's towering form reminded her. Despite her size, Mom's inner Justice ran strong and deep; she wasn't afraid of anything, not even her husband when he was at his most furious. "She doesn't know," she reminded him softly.

"And I don't _want_ to know," Trina added hastily.

She did _not_ want the details. She knew that a lot of the ex-athletes--and a handful of the new ones--had a nasty habit of going where they weren't wanted when it came to women, and that was more than enough.

"Madboy doesn't know either," she went on. "I mean, he probably knows that his father has pretty loose morals, but...he doesn't know that he did something to Mom. And I don't want him to."

Her dad was looking at her like she'd lost her mind. "Okay--why don't you go play with matches under your bed while you're at it?"

"Dad," Trina said wearily, "he's nothing like his father. He's a--vet."

Okay, that sounded really stupid, especially blurted out like that. All she wanted to do was show that he wasn't remotely dangerous, and bringing up his innocuous profession was the first thing that popped into her head.

Puzzlement flickered across her father's face. "He's a...what?"

"A veterinarian," she explained. "He takes care of animals for a living. He quit sports years ago. You didn't know?"

She had been hoping that he didn't. Madboy had been out of the spotlight for over a decade, which was kind of the point she was trying to lead up to.

"No," Dad said, after a moments pause. "I actually haven't heard anything about him since before he graduated from high school. I just assumed that he didn't have what it took to make it to the League once he finished college."

Trina had a feeling that most people thought that. "I bet he did have what it took, if he really wanted to make it," she said slowly. "He chose not to pursue a career in sports. It wasn't what he wanted to do with his life--and Madman all but disowned him for it."

Her mom frowned at the idea. "That isn't right," she said, with obvious disapproval. "We raise our children to make their own choices--we don't control where they decide to lead their own lives."

Grunting, Dad pinched the bridge of his brief nose. "Dare, that's not the hot issue here."

"He makes me happy," Trina rushed on. "And he's good to me. You know how many guys I dated back in high school. You really think I'd let him anywhere near me if he didn't treat me right?"

Her dad lowered his hand and studied her for a long, tense moment. "No," he finally said in a quiet voice. "You wouldn't. We brought you up better than that."

"And," her mom added softly, "you're old enough to make your own choices, even ones that we won't necessarily agree with. You'll make mistakes sometimes, and that's okay, as long as you always learn from them."

Trina swallowed as her eyes started tingling suspiciously. She had the best parents ever; no matter what she did, they were always behind her. Supporting her. That's what she wanted Madboy to have--a family he could depend on. She wanted to give him that almost as much as she wanted to love him.

Her dad must have thought of this too, because he suddenly pulled a face. "She's right," he allowed, "but do you have to make a mistake that might end up making us related?"

Mom nudged him. "We're past that," she reminded him.

"Maybe you are," Dad said sourly. "All I'm past is not wanting to tear Madman's throat out with my teeth the second I see him."

Trina cleared her throat. "It's not a mistake," she said firmly. "I know it's awkward, and I know he's older than me, but he's kind and treats me with nothing but respect. I don't know if we're going to work out and stay together for life, but I want to find out."

She said this because it was the logical thing to say...but something deep inside her was telling her that it _was_ going to work out, and that she was going to love him for the rest of her life.

"We know we raised you to be sensible," her mother said, reaching to give her hand a squeeze. "And I know you wouldn't have anything to do with someone who didn't treat you right. And I also know that if he ever does anything to _not_ treat you right, your father won't need to kick him out of your life, because you'll have already done it by the time we find out."

"You got that right," Trina said, smiling in relief.

Her father let out a long sigh. "This is going to take a long time for me to get used to," he said. "But I trust you to make the right decision. You know what's best for you."

That's absolutely right, she wanted to say with a happy sigh. Instead, she gave both of them a tight hug before dashing out of the kitchen. She was half-afraid Madboy had gotten scared and ran off by now, but he was still standing awkwardly by the coat rack, absently shuffling his feet.

He brightened when he saw her, and brightened even more when she threw herself into his arms so hard he almost stumbled backward. "So...everything's cool?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Trina said as she tightened her arms around him. "But they're willing to let us go wherever this takes us...and they trust me to handle it myself if it doesn't work out between us."

"I want it to," Madboy told her softly, resting his forehead against hers. "I want it to work out between us more than anything. You're the first person in my life that's ever fought for me. I'd be a fool to give you up."

Beaming, Trina reached up and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Well, you're worth it. And anyone who can't see that is the real fool."

Blinking back tears, he held her closer--and then let go and stepped back with a look of guilt. Trina turned around and saw that her parents had decided to join them. Her dad's expression could only be described as dark, but all he said was, "Take good care of her."

Madboy ducked his head. "I will," he promised. "I'd never hurt her, ever."

"Good. I'd like to say that I'd rip you apart if you did, but..."

Grinning suddenly, his gaze suddenly shifted to Trina. "She'd do that herself long before I got there, but maybe I'd get to stomp on the pieces?"

Mom elbowed him and rolled her eyes. "Raze, behave yourself."

Madboy was laughing nervously, but Trina could tell that he was relieved. "Well, hopefully you won't need to."

"And hopefully I won't need to remind that dad of yours to keep his nose out of my business."

Flushing, Madboy glanced at the floor. "No worries there. He hasn't really been a part of my life in a long time, so I really doubt he'd pay me a visit just because I'm seeing someone."

"Even if that someone is the daughter of one of his ex-opponents?" Dad wondered.

"One bridge at a time, Raze," Mom warned.

Grateful, Trina gave her another hug. "Thanks, Mom. We're going to go now, okay? We haven't eaten lunch yet."

"Okay. Come back soon, all right?"

Promising that they would, Trina quickly kissed both her parents goodbye before grabbing Madboy and retreating outside. "Disaster averted," she noted with a happy sigh as they headed to his car.

"What were they more unhappy about," Madboy wondered as he started the engine, "the fact that I'm older than you or the part where my dad used to torment Bones and everybody else on the team?"

"Actually, they didn't even react to your age," Trina mused. "I think a lot of bad memories were dragged up today, but..."

With another happy sigh, she scooted across the seat and rested her head on his shoulder. "It's over now. We can make new memories. Good ones."

"Great ones," Madboy added with a playful grin.

"You got a memory in particular you'd like to make there, Pup?" Trina asked slyly as she returned to her end of the seat and buckled in.

For a moment he looked startled--and then he hunched over the steering wheel with a blush. "No," he mumbled as he drove away. "I was just..."

With a sigh, he scratched one of his ears for a moment. "I guess I should just tell you. I've never done, you know...that."

Blushing harder, he ducked his head, though he had to look up again so he could see the road. Trina blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Never got that close to anyone before," he mumbled. "My teen years were mostly spent training for a profession I didn't want to have, and then after I quit I let myself get buried in my college studies so I wouldn't have to think about how disappointed my dad was in me. After that, well..."

He gave a shrug. "I'm not exactly cool and desirable, even if I wasn't a vet. Plus I'm what my dad calls silly, sentimental and sappy. I want my first time to be special, and then only with someone I really love."

Her heart melting, Trina leaned across the seat and kissed his cheek. " _I_ really love you, and our first time together won't be anything less than fantastic. It'll be my first time ever too, you know."

She spoke casually, but that didn't stop a touch of color from rising into her cheeks. Madboy looked surprised. "Really? But, you're so pretty..."

"Pretty girls can't say no?" Trina wondered, eyebrow cocked.

Flushing, Madboy ducked his head again. "That's not what I meant, I..."

"Kidding," she said quickly. "I had to worry about the guys I dated actually being interested in me and not my fame, so I kept myself to, uh, myself. Plus I want it to be special and only with someone I really love, too. And if that means I'm a sentimental sap, then so be it. I'll be a sentimental sap falling asleep with a smile on my face."

With a quiet laugh, Madboy relaxed and sat back. "Sounds like a plan to me. But like your mom said...one bridge at a time."

Smiling, Trina reached over and took his hand in hers. "I agree. Let's just enjoy what we have right here and now. We've got our whole lives to plan the rest."

Madboy's expression was soft as he looked at her. "You really think we'll be together that long?"

"Don't you think so?"

Still smiling, he lifted her hand and kissed it. "I know so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this popped into my head in the middle of writing OW: TYL, during chapter 6 when Trina is showering in the locker room. My weird brain told me, "She should bump into someone about now! Someone that'll make her feel awkward! Oh, I know; Madboy!"
> 
> I scoffed and told my weird brain to shove it and went on with the story as normal, but the idea wouldn't go away. So it was inevitable that I put it here, though I'll be the first to admit that it's a pretty weird notion. Hope I haven't creeped anyone out.


	3. Finding My Own Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrasher hasn't felt happy with the direction her life has gone for a long time, and one afternoon she runs into someone with the same problem--someone she's only seen as a friend for over twenty years. But it is true what they say? Does misery plus misery really equal happiness?
> 
> Begins shortly after the previous tangent. Rated T for Thrasher's potty-mouth and raciness.

Thrasher took one last look around the office, checking for anything that needed to be done before she closed up for the day, but everything looked like it was in perfect order. It always did--her baby sister ran a tight ship.

In a few short months, the center had grown from a pet project to a legitimate organization. They had a steady flow of funding, a full staff...and their programs had expanded beyond offering shelter to mutant victims of violence. They now offered care and counseling services for female mutants fleeing abusive relationships or dealing with crisis pregnancies, including adoption and other options for the ones who didn't think they could properly care for their soon-to-be-born children.

Thrasher couldn't be prouder of her baby sister. She had pulled together an amazing thing and had already helped dozens of people. Regina gave her big sister a lot of credit where helping set the place up was concerned, but...Thrasher was pretty sure that she could have done it without her.

In fact, she was pretty sure she did very little to contribute around here lately, and she felt disheartened as she turned the lights off and locked up before heading out to her car.

Truth was, she had felt dissatisfied ever since she quit sports--and maybe even a little before that. She knew that everyone--particularly Bones--was perfectly happy with the way the Mutant League had changed in the last twenty years or so. Aging Joe Magician had even publicly stated a few weeks ago that the only way he was going to leave his position as commissioner was when they dragged off his cold, lifeless body.

Mostly everyone was happy with this idea, since mostly everyone liked him as commissioner. Sure, he was a sleaze, but the only shady things he had done was show favoritism for the Derangers, plus acquire money for the League in a few less than squeaky clean ways. But that was all, and it was both expected and tolerated.

Honestly, Thrasher thought the new version of the League was kind of boring. Not that she felt that it was better before--that was nuts--but the thought that fighting for a win was the same as fighting against the evil officials of the Dome had given her an extra thrill on the field. Once that particular thrill went...they kind of all went.

She had still played her best no matter what, and by the time she retired she'd adequately left her mark on the world of mutant sports, paving the way for future female athletes. But even then, she hadn't quite made as big of a splash as she would have liked...and that one prize that took her forever to stop coveting had eluded her completely. Even now, she would look back on what she could have had and feel a sharp pang.

That was probably one of the reasons for her dour mood lately, and she tried vainly to shove the thought from her mind as she headed to her car. But it was one of those things that was impossible to ignore, since all the gossip rags and anything else that chattered about mutant athletes were buzzing about it.

 _The most romantic wedding anniversary ever!_ the magazines all crowed, promising all the details and candid photos inside. A load of crap as usual; the ocean liner they pictured wasn't the one Bones and Sherry were on, since Bones had made sure no cameras were allowed on-board, and the grainy photos looked like they had been taken months ago and distorted in the hopes that no one was smart enough to notice the difference.

Still, the public ate it up, since it _was_ pretty romantic. It was their twentieth wedding anniversary, and Bones had decided to celebrate it via renewing his vows to Sherry before taking her on a two week cruise through the Caribbean. Thrasher had to wonder if he really thought Sherry was worth all that effort or...if he would treat any woman he was involved with like a goddess.

It was hard to say, since he had never been with anyone else--a fact she tried hard not to think about but kept popping into her head, especially in the last few months. _Everybody_ was enjoying marital bliss, it seemed. Raze and Dare had their own twentieth anniversary coming up, and they were already planning for it. It took place only two days after her dad’s anniversary to Emmaline, and they were making plans, too.

Cannonball had retired a long time ago and was happily raising a family with Luna. In fact, the only members of the old team who were still single were the Puke brothers--something that nobody questioned or mentioned. They were a pair who would never separate and were perfectly content that way.

The younger generation of the family was starting to blossom with romance too, though Regina was still flying solo--and liked it that way. She was fiercely independent--a trait she credited to her mother--and wasn’t interested in looking for love. Her philosophy was that if it found her, fine. If not, equally fine. It didn't matter to her.

Hell, even Darkstar was still married to that self-proclaimed man-eater of his. She hadn't seen much of either of them lately, but as far as she knew, they were still happy together.

Everyone who wanted someone had someone...except her, of course. Not that she needed a man. Hell, when it came down to it, she didn't need anyone. She was fine being single; she had been single since before graduating from college. Sure, she'd dated occasionally over the last twenty years, but that didn't really count. Just like her almost-marriage to the guy who was now her stepbrother.

It had only been a ploy, and it had meant nothing to him…and it was supposed to have meant nothing to her. It didn't, she reminded herself firmly as she jerked the car door open and slid into the driver's seat. She'd given up on that fantasy years ago.

And she honestly had. She had long since come to grips with the fact that her dad, out of all the women in the world, had married _his_ mother. It didn't matter, because she knew now that even if Sherry had never been in the picture...Bones would never have picked her.

She knew this, and she had accepted it a long time ago. But it had all seemed to come crashing back down when she left the world of sports. She was so dissatisfied with her life now, it made her mind wander over all the things that had left her disappointed, whether she wanted to remember those things or not.

"Screw it," Thrasher muttered darkly as she jabbed her keys into the ignition.

If her tiny baby sister could stand up--and stand up alone--to a large, violent group of crazed mutant activists, then she could carve out a new life for herself--and by herself. She didn't want or need anyone's help.

As if mocking her sudden resolve, her car sputtered, choked, and groaned...and completely refused to start. Gritting her teeth, Thrasher turned and twisted the key--and then there was a bang that shook the cab, making her jump in surprise. The car tilted to the side with a creak.

“Crap,” she muttered as she got out and saw the problem. The ever present cushion of air that puffed from the undercarriage and was _supposed_ to keep the car a few inches off the ground, even when it wasn't running, had given out at the back on the left side.

She had been meaning to take it in for servicing, but this was ridiculous. Now she'd have to call a tow truck, then get a ride or a rental car just so she could go home.

"Crap, crap, crappity, _crap_ ," she grumbled, angrily kicking the bumper.

"That always was your favorite word," an amused voice suddenly noted.

Startled, Thrasher spun around--and saw Darkstar standing near the curb, snickering at her. "What do you want?" she asked wearily.

Hands in his jeans pockets, he gave a shrug. "Just taking a walk. A good thing too, huh?" he added with a grin.

"I don't see how," she groused.

"Well, from the look of it you're going to need a ride," he observed, eyeing her car.

"Didn't you just say you're on foot?"

"I was driving at first. Then I decided to get out and clear my head."

His white eyes studied her for a moment. There was something odd in his expression. If she didn't know any better, she would swear he looked lonely. "Come on," he urged. "You can call to have it towed later. I'll even take you someplace to eat."

Thrasher considered it for a moment. She _was_ kind of hungry…and her car wasn't going anywhere. "Okay," she decided, shoving her keys into her coat pocket.

Darkstar had parked a few blocks away, so they walked the distance in silence. Even though this was his idea, it became obvious that he was too lost in thought to say much. When they got into the car and he pulled away from the curb, his eyes stayed glued to the road, but she had the distinct feeling that he wasn't seeing a whole lot.

"What's your problem?" she wondered, thinking that it wasn't a very good idea to be that distracted while driving.

Darkstar glanced at her for a second. "My, aren't you a little ray of sunshine tonight," he noted wryly. "But then, you always were."

Thrasher snorted and turned to look out the window. "Whatever..."

Silence descended again, heavier than before. Traffic was slow--it was rush hour--and Darkstar let out a quiet sigh as he pulled to a stop at the end of a long line of vehicles waiting for the light to turn green.

"She left me."

Startled, Thrasher turned from the window. "What?"

Darkstar didn't look at her, his eyes fixed on a spot over the steering wheel. "Cecilia. She told me it was over and filed for divorce."

Thrasher was so surprised, for a few minutes all she could do was stare dumbly. She had just been thinking earlier how perfect all the marriages surrounding her were, so she had _not_ been expecting this.

"Why?" she finally blurted--and then cringed. It wasn't any of her business.

But Darkstar just shrugged, like it didn't matter. "She just got bored, I guess. I probably should have seen it coming a long time ago."

He spoke lightly, his expression casual, but Thrasher saw how his hands clenched the steering wheel, so tightly the vinyl squeaked. He was hurt. Badly.

"I'm sorry," she faltered.

Darkstar shrugged again. "I'm over it."

Thrasher kind of doubted that. "When's it finalized?" she asked quietly.

"In a few weeks. She's already got it all planned out. Going to move back to Europe, do some traveling, check out her branch of offices there. Probably after she's done screwing everyone she can get her hands on."

Ouch, thought Thrasher. But that was Cecilia for you. She prided herself in having a man and then throwing him away--because that was what men did--so it had shocked everyone when she got married. It was even more shocking that she'd actually waited to file for divorce before running off and going back to her old ways...but like Darkstar said, they probably should have seen this coming. But after almost twenty years together, everyone had gotten used to them being together...including Darkstar.

Thrasher didn't really feel hungry anymore and kind of wanted to just go home, but traffic was still crawling, so...she was kind of stuck here.

"She didn't...start sleeping around again before you filed for divorce, did she?" she asked hesitantly.

Darkstar gave his head a shake. "Nope. It might have been easier if she had, though. Sure, she'd blame it on me for being too boring to stay with anymore, but I could cite her for infidelity and walk away with a little dignity. The media will have a field day no matter what, but that doesn't change the fact that her leaving comes down to something _I_ did."

Thrasher stared at him a moment. The awkwardness she was feeling right now mounted to an uncomfortable degree, and she had to fight the urge to squirm in her seat. "Um...what _did_ you do?” she asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Darkstar shrugged. "I got old."

Now Thrasher snorted. " _You_? She's over ten years older than you."

But even at sixty-something, Cecilia was still a knock-out. She'd kept herself in great shape, plus like anyone with a little mutant in them, she didn't show her age all that much. Darkstar was no exception either. He was as toned and fit as ever, though there were visible lines on his face that didn't use to be there. Not surprising, considering how often and how hard he scowled and frowned.

He chuckled bitterly. "I don't mean physically. Retiring from sports ended up changing my outlook on a couple of things."

Thrasher snorted quietly. "Tell me about it."

"You know I never planned to get married in the first place, so I guess it shouldn't have surprised me that I changed my mind about other things I never used to want. Sure surprised Cee, though."

"Okay, I give up. What things are you talking about?"

And why would that make his wife up and leave?

Traffic cleared enough for them to start moving again, and Darkstar drove silently for a few minutes before he answered. "Like I said, I got old, at least in my head. That's the only explanation I can come up with for suddenly looking at what everyone else we know has and thinking, 'I want that.' I want the big yard, the picket fence, the family. So," he went on, with a heavy sigh, "I up and told Cee that I wanted us to get an actual house together, instead of bouncing back and forth between our apartments the way we do. And then I had the nerve to say that I wanted kids."

He gave his head a shake. "She gave me this look like she'd just woken up to find herself married to a complete stranger. Next thing I knew, she'd packed up all the stuff she kept at my place and never came back."

Thrasher was incredulous. "All because of _that_? Give me a break. She had to have been unhappy with other things in the marriage and just used that as an excuse to take off."

"I figured the same thing. But that doesn't change the fact that what I said was the catalyst."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with wanting to live like normal people. Well, so to speak," she added with a weak smile.

"Not funny."

"Sorry."

He turned and pulled into a relatively empty restaurant parking lot. "I'm not really hungry anymore," Thrasher said quietly.

"Me either. Let's grab some coffee and call it good."

She could agree to that, so they headed inside and drank the strongest brew on the menu before he drove her home. That night she slept restlessly, even getting up a few times to absently pace around her apartment.

Running into someone whose life was being pulled apart at the seams made her stop and really take a look at her own. She knew she was unhappy, but why? Because she was single? Because she'd gotten too old to keep up with the younger stars pouring into the League? Because she'd never reached a place with another person where a situation like Darkstar's was even possible?

She spent so much time mulling it over that she was too tired the next day to go to work. "It's okay," Regina said when Thrasher called her to say she wasn't coming in. "I can get someone to cover for you. You just take it easy."

She must look in worse shape than she thought these days if her baby sister didn't pause to question her ditching work for even an instant. That was just...sad.

She went back to work the following day, though she didn't really focus on much of anything. A few weeks dragged by without her being able to shake the vaguely restless feeling she had, without understanding why.

And then it hit her. As much as she admired this kind of work, it wasn't what she wanted to do--this project wasn't hers. It was one-hundred-percent Regina's, and her baby sister immersed herself in it proudly. Thrasher was proud of her too, but this wasn't what she wanted to do with her life. Trouble was, she had no idea what it was she wanted to do with her life. And there was no one she could really talk to about it. No one else in the family had to deal with feeling like they were adrift, floating through their life aimlessly. They all had a clear purpose, be it their work, their family, the one that they loved.

Could she pinpoint the exact moment this feeling started? Absolutely. It was the day her mother died. Sure, her dad had always been there for her--and continued to be there for her--but the closeness they used to share had faded a little after he remarried, even though they both tried hard to maintain it. It just wasn't the same.

She was in the middle of arguing with herself that she didn’t need anyone to stand on her own two feet as she headed into Fly Taco--when she bumped into Darkstar coming out. "It's official," he announced, not even bothering to say hello.

Thrasher gave him a funny look. "What is?"

He gave her an 'are you stupid?' look. "My divorce. The final papers were signed this morning."

Feeling silly, Thrasher glanced away. "Oh."

She knew that divorces took a few months at best to go through all the red tape, so he must have been staying silent over it for a long time before he told her about it. Silent and angry in his own little world…that was Darkstar all right.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Forget about it. Were you heading in to eat? I'll pay."

"You don't have to do that," she objected as he put a hand on her back and pushed her inside.

"Don't get your hopes up, Thrash. It's just from one teammate to another."

Scowling, Thrasher elbowed him. "Well, duh."

Like she'd actually be stupid enough to think it was something else. Or stupid enough to get involved with someone heading into divorce-rebound.

"Here's to forever staying unattached from now on," he said a few minutes later, slurping down a jumbo soda while they waited by the bar for her order.

Thrasher laughed quietly, without humor. "Or in my case, never getting attached to begin with. Which is worse: getting divorced, or never having a single serious relationship in your entire life?"

She spoke jokingly, but a small chill ran through her when she realized that her own words were completely true. She _hadn't_ ever had a serious relationship in her entire life. Just a handful of dates and short-lived flings.

"We're both pathetic," Darkstar assessed. "So pathetic that we'll probably never do better than each other."

Thrasher, who had been leaning on the bar, almost fell over. " _What_?"

Darkstar was snickering, clearly amused by his own joke. "Seriously, two losers deserve each other. Let's get together and make some seriously ugly orange babies."

"In your dreams," Thrasher muttered. "Make that my nightmares."

Darkstar continued to snicker. "You kidding? I could barely stand being on the same team as you, let alone have to live with you. I'd strangle you till your head popped off before a week went by."

"Not if I strangled you first," she said acidly.

He snickered harder, and Thrasher rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop a smile from teasing at the corners of her mouth. Her order came; Darkstar paid for it and followed her to a table near the back.

"Let's make a bet," he suggested as she sat down, while he remained standing and leaning his hands on the back of a chair.

"What kind of bet?" she asked warily.

"To see whoever does something stupid first. Winner gets to pick the appropriate punishment."

Thrasher scoffed and chewed on a fry. "Yeah, right. When was the last time you saw me do something stupid? And you're the one who married one of the loosest women on the planet and thought you could tame her, so I'd say you win by default."

Darkstar's smirk faded. "Guess you got a point, there."

Thrasher bit her lip; she hadn't meant to go that far. "I didn't mean--"

"It's okay. You're right. And my punishment is living the rest of my life knowing that I've got a failed marriage under my belt."

All her humor gone, Thrasher focused on her plate and munched in silence, quietly hoping he would go away. He lingered a moment more before mumbling a goodbye and slipping off into the crowd.

* * *

For the next few days, Thrasher contemplated what else she could do with her life while she tried to come up with a way to gently tell her baby sister that working at the center wasn't for her. Not like she thought it would be. She hesitated because she wasn't sure how Regina would take it...and because she really wasn't sure what she was going to say. She'd never been good with words, which was why she'd ended up handling paperwork at a desk in the back instead of dealing with the cases that came their way directly.

Someone else she knew was more than just good with words; she made her living dealing with tricky insurance claims and real estate deals. She was sweet and charismatic and knew how to put her clients at ease. She and Thrasher didn't speak all that often, especially not alone together, but one afternoon she found herself heading up the front walk to the house her father shared with his wife, Emmaline.

"He's out right now," Emmaline said after inviting her inside.

"That's okay," Thrasher said quickly. "I, um, kind of wanted to talk to you."

Looking surprised, Emmaline led her to the kitchen, where she poured a cup of tea for herself and passed Thrasher a mug full of Dad's favorite coffee. "Did you hear about what happened?" Thrasher asked quietly as they sat down at the table together.

"You mean the divorce? Yes. Cecilia told me."

Thrasher studied her for a moment. "You don't seem surprised."

"Honestly, I can't say that I am. But I expected them to separate over a decade ago, so I suppose it does surprise me that it took this long. I'm not happy with Cecilia, but...I'm impressed that she was able to stick it out this long. She's just, how would you say..."

"Perpetually stuck in horny teenager mode?" Thrasher supplied.

"More or less. They both tried their best, but sometimes it just doesn't work out between two people. What they want at one stage of their lives might not be what they want in another. That's how people can care about each other but still grow apart. Unless someone is directly abusive or unfaithful, no one is really to blame."

"This from a woman who firmly believes that marriage is supposed to be forever?" Thrasher noted dryly.

Emmaline let out a quiet chuckle as she stirred her tea. "I forgot, you've never seen me with anyone but your father. And I'd rather be dead than for anything to happen to him, or for something to go wrong between us. But remember, I had not one but two marriages go sour before we got together."

Thrasher grew quiet. Honestly, she _had_ forgotten that. Even after twenty years, she and her dad still seemed so desperately in love, and no one ever mentioned the other two marriages anymore, so she scarcely remembered them ever existing. Kind of stupid, really, considering who ended up being born from the first marriage.

After taking a long sip of her coffee, she asked, "How did you deal with it?"

If Emmaline thought it was odd that she was asking this kind of question when she wasn't the one dealing with divorce, it didn't show as she sat back and thought for a moment. "I would definitely say that I handled the second time better than the first," she noted, a touch grimly. "But at its core, my method was the same both times. I surrounded myself with friends and family and people I knew I could trust. People who cared about me. I didn't really expect the last time to turn out as well as it did, but..."

She gave a small shrug and a quiet smile. Thrasher knew what she meant; her second divorce--though technically she had never officially divorced her first husband--had been horrible, but she'd gotten a new husband and a beautiful baby girl out of it. Not to mention she was then able to build the practically-perfect life she had now.

"I'm glad," Thrasher said honestly. "I mean, I know I was a total bitch at first, but...I'm glad you have each other now. You're good for each other."

Sure, she'd never think anyone could top her mom, but...now that she really knew her, Thrasher knew that her dad couldn't have made a better choice.

Emmaline smiled again, her eyes turning moist. "Thank you."

The next thing she knew, Thrasher was pouring out everything. The uncertainty of what to do with her life, the feelings of dissatisfaction, of unhappiness. "I don't know if it's because I'm not in sports anymore, or because I'm alone--or both," she finished unhappily.

Emmaline pushed her empty teacup aside and lightly rested her hand over hers; Thrasher found herself clinging to it. "I know just how you feel," she said, her smile sad and full of understanding. "I spent many years feeling unhappy with and downright ashamed of the life I used to have. I was disappointed in myself and the choices I made."

Thrasher gave a small nod, knowing the story. "How did you change it?" she asked quietly.

"I learned how to fight. I realized what was truly important in my life, and I grabbed on and refused to let go. I reached a place where I wasn't going to let anyone take anything from me again--not when I could stop them. It's a place your dad helped me reach," she added, her smile soft.

"And you helped him be happy again," Thrasher told her. "Like I said, you're good for each other. You bring out the best in each other."

Emmaline smiled again. "I know you already know how to fight," she went on, "but it's also important to learn how to let go of what's gone. You don't have to completely forget--forgetting puts us in a place where we might make the same mistakes--but it's not good to waste our lives chasing after things that can never be, or never be again. Doing that makes us lose sight of what's right in front of us. And I think that I've proven,” she said, her smile turning wry, "that it's never too late to start over."

Thrasher snorted quietly and rested back in her seat. "That's sure not how they make it seem," she muttered. Stories of life and love always seemed the same--young. A life just beginning, a first love. Just like real life, where _everything_ turns out perfect the first time. _Sure_.

But Emmaline was right; she _was_ proof you could start over. Could she do the same? Start a brand new life for herself here in her forties? One that might be even better than the life she had back in her twenties?

It sounded far-fetched, but...she was willing to try.

* * *

"So you're not mad?"

Regina smiled as she tucked a folder into the filing cabinet in front of her. "Why would I be mad? I could tell you weren't exactly happy working here. I'm really grateful for your help getting this place off the ground, but if you're ready to move on, I understand."

Thrasher let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks. You're the best baby sister ever."

Smiling again, Regina gave her a quick hug before hurrying back to work. Thrasher took one last look around, taking note of the other women working busily on the phone, sorting through papers, or talking quietly to one of their cases. Yes, everything was under control, and she felt comfortable leaving her baby sister on her own. Small and fragile or not, she had grown up and could handle herself just fine--she'd proven that months ago.

As she headed out to her car, Thrasher wondered if that wasn't something else that was bothering her--proving herself, namely. She'd had to prove herself when she first joined the League, which hadn't been easy. Trina had had to do the same thing, but it had been a smoother ride for her.

Thrasher would have liked to have taken credit for paving the way for her, but...it really wasn't like that. She'd had to overcome her own set of obstacles that Thrasher hadn't had to deal with and made it out on top just fine. And Thrasher had to wonder now if, with whatever venture she decided to choose, she wouldn't end up needing to prove herself all over again.

With a grunt, she got into her car--a brand new one she'd picked up after trading in her old one--and started the engine. Prove herself at this stage of her life? Talk about starting over, she thought darkly as she headed for home.

Along the way, she decided to stop for a quick bite and pulled up outside a small fast food place. After she parked and was heading across the lot, she spied a familiar car parked near the edge--and a familiar figure leaning against the brick wall that bordered the area.

He looked more orange than unusual, bathed in the light of the setting sun like that. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

Darkstar glanced at her, hands in his pockets. In all these years, he'd never changed his look. He still went around in old jeans, sneakers, and muscle shirts that looked a size too small for him--like if he flexed too hard, they would rip. Which was probably the impression he wanted to give.

"Just hanging," he said lazily--before flashing her one of his harshest scowls. "Why? Do I need your permission or something?"

"No," Thrasher said wearily, not in the mood for their usual round of banter. "I was just wondering."

He looked a little surprised that she didn’t snap back, but he quieted for a moment. "What about you?" he wondered.

Thrasher shrugged and leaned against a parked car. "Looking for a deeper meaning in life?" she cracked.

Darkstar, who had been gazing off at the skyline, gave her a funny look. "You? Delving in deep thinking? That'll be a first."

Thrasher scowled, the membrane that made up her hair flaring a little. "When was the last time _you_ did anything besides accept money for showing up in public or yakking about something you'll never use?" she challenged hotly.

She expected him to lash back at her, but instead, he turned and pointed casually into the distance. Confused, Thrasher looked and caught a glimpse of a school between a group of buildings in the distance.

"I've been doing work as a volunteer coach in high schools and colleges around town," he said calmly. "It usually gives a boost to student morale, plus it helps point the talent scouts toward the ones who can cut it in the League."

Thrasher felt herself turn blank as she stared. And she thought she knew this particular mutant better than she knew anyone...

"Ummm...wow. That's surprisingly thoughtful of you."

"You mean I have thoughts?" he questioned, the challenge plain in his voice.

Grunting, Thrasher rubbed her eyes for a moment. "Forget it. Listen, you think I could tag along sometime?"

She expected Darkstar to look amused, but instead he looked surprised. Then, a smile touched his ordinarily frowning lips. "I suppose," he allowed slowly. "It's a lot better than officially coaching, you know. You get all the perks, but none of the pressure of actually having to train a team to win."

And you could serve as an inspiration, she thought silently. Especially to young girls who didn't think they were good enough. "Sounds good. Sign me up."

* * *

With a sigh of contentment, Thrasher left the last school was she visiting today. Now _this_ was a job. Teaching the future rising stars of the League--specifically the young girls who needed a confidence boost. Plus it was sports, something she just couldn't live without. Not without being completely miserable.

As she headed across the lawn to her car, parked by the curb, she suddenly stopped when she spied that familiar orange figure lurking nearby, leaning casually against his own car like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Are you following me?" she asked suspiciously.

Darkstar snickered. "Nah. I'm totally stalking you. Next I'll be leaving creepy love letters under your pillow."

Thrasher scoffed and twirled her keys on her finger. "If you break into my apartment, I'll break you in half," she threatened.

He just snickered again. "Have a fulfilling day?"

Thrasher continued to scowl for a moment, but her expression slowly softened. "Yeah. Thanks for the tip, by the way."

He shrugged and glanced down at his sneakers, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. "No problem."

Thrasher smiled faintly for a moment, then glanced over at her car. "You hungry?" she asked as she looked at him again.

Darkstar gave another shrug. "I could eat. You?"

"Yeah. Come on, let me buy you dinner. You know, to say thanks and everything."

A smile slowly touched his face. "Sounds good," he said as he pushed away from his car. "But we're taking my car. Don't know if I trust yours."

Snorting, Thrasher went and got into the passenger side of his sedan, but a second later she smiled. "You're a jerk, you know that?"

"Proud of it."

She expected him to drive somewhere like Fly Taco, but instead he pulled into the lot of a higher end kind of restaurant. It surprised her--but then she remembered. _She_ was paying. Only as they went inside, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that this wasn't a place he would normally go, and that he had brought them here for her benefit.

As they sat down at a table beneath a set of glittering lights, Darkstar looked a little lost as he studied the menu. When their waiter came, he dropped it and pointed across the room at a table where a petite norm and her boyfriend were dining. "I'll have whatever you can't serve them without being prosecuted," he instructed tersely.

Thrasher bit back a snort of laughter. "Darkstar, that's horrible."

"I know."

Looking amused, the waiter took her order before heading off again. While Darkstar fidgeted in his seat, Thrasher laced her fingers and rested her chin on them. "Have you heard from Cecilia?" she asked, not knowing what else to say.

He shook his head. "Not since the last time we saw each other in court. Not that we spoke, mind you. Last I heard she was booking a flight out of the country. Now that she's put your stepmom in charge of her branch of offices here, I doubt she'll ever come back."

Thrasher kind of doubted it, too. Speaking of her stepmom...knowing how badly a divorce could go, she knew that this particular case, as unpleasant as it might have been, had gone swiftly and smoothly. Cecilia didn't want Darkstar's money, she just wanted a quick, clean break.

Thrasher had to wonder what hurt more; her leaving, or her acting like he wasn't worth fighting for. Neither one of them had brought up the possibility of working it out, and she kind of got the feeling neither of them wanted it to. If Cecilia wanted to leave, Darkstar didn't want her to stay.

Because no matter how brave a face he tried to put on, Thrasher could tell that it had hurt him greatly that she thought he wasn't enough for her.

Conversation remained infrequent and awkward throughout dinner. Thrasher ordered a bottle of strong wine, which they both sipped along with their meals. Make that gulped uncomfortably.

When the check came, Thrasher felt a flutter of relief. And to her surprise, Darkstar wordlessly paid for half before leaving the table. She tossed down extra for the tip before hurrying out after him.

In his car, Darkstar rubbed his eyes for a moment before fumbling with his keys. "Maybe we should sit for a minute," she suggested casually.

She didn't think he was up to driving at the moment. Unfortunately, she didn't think she was, either.

Darkstar scowled at her--typical. "It was just regular wine," he grumbled. But he leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a moment.

Relieved, Thrasher rested back in her seat and covered a quiet yawn. Despite the awkwardness that had hovered over dinner, she felt content. Happy, even. She liked this direction her life was headed, and even if she hadn't gotten on this new path all on her own, well...that was okay. It was nice to have a friend.

The thought almost made her laugh. Considering how much they'd fought since day one, it was hard to believe the two of them considered each other friends.

Darkstar suddenly stirred. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Thrasher looked at him curiously. "For what?"

He looked at her for a moment, the light shining from the restaurant windows across the lot casting shadows across his face. "For being the only person not afraid to talk to me right now."

He laughed a second later and shook his head. "That's a funny thought, huh? You afraid to open your mouth. Especially when you're putting your foot in it."

With a snort, Thrasher jabbed his ribs. "Quit while you're ahead."

Snickering, he grabbed her hand, his fingers closing around hers. His smile slowly faded as his white gaze focused on her face. His grip on her hand tightened.

Thrasher swallowed as something stirred inside her, something she couldn't quite name. "I think..."

She wasn't sure what she thought. And a moment later she couldn't think at all, because Darkstar suddenly cupped her face as he lunged for her, kissing her with a hunger she'd only heard about…until now.

With a low growl, Darkstar pressed a hand against her shoulder, pinning her against the seat as he kissed her with a ferocity that left her breathless and dizzy. She was no wimp, but the sudden onslaught of passion made her feel faint, like she could float away.

Although that might have been because of the wine. Whatever the reason, instead of shoving him away, she found herself sinking farther back into the seat, moaning quietly as the heat of his touch sent warmth spreading through her veins.

He didn't slow for an instant. His lips scorched across her mouth, her face, her throat, his sharp fangs nipping at her skin occasionally, making her gasp softly. As he nipped and nuzzled her throat, pushing her jacket off her shoulders at the same time, a part of her spoke up--distantly--and told her to shove him off.

The rest of her didn't want to. It had been a long time--and she'd never found herself on the receiving end of this kind of passion before. It made her body hum pleasantly, while a few parts of her that had been ignored for many months started longing for attention.

Clearly, Darkstar had every intention of uncovering those parts. She hadn't even realized what he'd done until--in a move that made her gasp sharply--he moved his hot mouth from her throat down to a place a little lower, kissing and probing her flesh with such fervor it made her arch with another moan.

Jerk, she thought absently. He was lucky that wasn't a new shirt.

That distant voice of protest spoke up again as his fumbling hands tore her shirt the rest of the way, stopping when it finally split at the hem. You shouldn't be doing this, it said quietly, firmly.

Darkstar's mouth suddenly returned to hers, kissing her with more force and passion than ever. Why not? she found herself thinking beneath the haze that had settled into her mind. They were both adults, here, so why...

That was the real question. _Why?_ What reason did either of them have to do this?

For her, she couldn't think of one. For him, it was obvious. To cope with the pain of what he had just lost. To puff up his pride after it had taken such a beating. That was no reason, and she tried to squirm away, pulling her mouth--reluctantly--away from his and resting her head against the cool glass of the window as she fought to catch her breath.

"Wait," she managed to gasp out.

His hands were everywhere. Her face, her arms and hands, beneath her ruined shirt and all over her torso. When they found the waistband of her jeans and deftly unsnapped them, she snatched his wrist and jerked it away. "Don't."

Darkstar paused and blinked at her, like he had just woken up from a nap. Or a lustful daze. "What's wrong?"

Scoffing, Thrasher grabbed his shoulder and shoved him away. "Everything," she snapped. "Get off."

She felt shaky, but her excitement was ebbing rapidly. Her hand still trembled as she tugged her jacket shut, fumbling vainly with the buttons. She gave up after a moment and held it shut with one hand while she reached for the door handle with the other.

Darkstar grabbed her shoulder, halting her retreat. "Don't go."

His voice sounded so strange it made her pause. He sounded...scared. Scared of being alone. She knew she couldn't blame him for that, but...

"You know when you joked about betting to see which one of us made a stupid mistake first? When you said that, I don't think you planned on us making that mistake with each other."

She felt his eyes on her as his hand tightened, but she didn't look at him. She didn't want to have to see the pain she knew was on his face.

"Don't go," he said again, in that same small, scared voice. "I need you."

With an angry scoff, Thrasher jerked the door opened and got out, yanking her shoulder free along the way. "Thrash--"

"Don't insult me," she snapped. "All you need right now is a quick screw that'll make you feel better, and I'll be damned if I'm going to be the one to give it to you!"

"Thrash, please, I--"

Thrasher slammed the door shut, cutting him off. As she tightened her jacket around her and hurried away, she had to wonder which made her feel worse: that he believed she'd stoop to something like that...or that she nearly had.

* * *

It was a long walk back to her car, so her tired legs ached by the time she dragged herself down the hall to her apartment. As she jabbed her keys into the lock, she had to--as she'd been doing for the last hour or so--swallow back the lump that was threatening to rise in her throat.

She refused to cry. She'd never shed a tear over a guy before, so she wasn't about to start now. But it wasn't just any guy, she reminded herself as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. This was one of her closest friends--her teammate. For that reason, he was someone she trusted more than most.

As she hung her jacket up and bitterly surveyed her ruined shirt, she reminded herself that he'd had too much to drink--they both had. Sure, it was just normal wine, but they'd both had enough to make them a little fuzzy-headed. Enough for them both to start doing stupid things they'd regret later.

At least it hadn't gone that far. After Darkstar sobered up, she was willing to bet he'd call and apologize--awkwardly. She'd accept just as awkwardly and tell him to forget about it, which they eventually would. It wasn't worth ruining their friendship over--they'd work past this.

Until then...she wasn't going to cry.

After taking a long shower, Thrasher pulled on a soft bathrobe and curled up in her favorite chair in the living room with a cup of hot tea. She didn't normally drink tea, but...she kind of needed to unwind about now.

She was in the middle of taking a sip when she heard a soft knock on the front door.

It couldn't be, she thought dryly. But when she opened it, she found Darkstar standing out in the hall, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets and head hung down.

"How'd you get up here?" she asked dryly. "Never mind, I don't want to know. What do you want?"

She hoped it was just to say he was sorry. She'd forgive him and then tell him to get lost.

Instead, he rested his shoulder against the doorframe and said, "I wasn't joking."

With an angry huff, Thrasher started to close the door; he quickly stopped it with his hand. "Don't do that. Please, just listen."

She didn't want to. She was afraid to--he never said please for anything. It scared her.

"What is this?" she asked, not bothering to mask her anger, her frustration. "The part where you tell me that you really do need me? That you've always loved me and that Cecilia was just a big mistake?"

A faint smile touched his lips. "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

Thrasher bit back a furious growl. "I told you, do _not_ insult me."

Shaking his head, he suddenly reached up and cupped her face, his thumb tenderly brushing over her cheekbone, her lips. "I'm not insulting you," he said quietly. "I'm just telling it like it is. Don't tell me that you don't know that it was always supposed to be you and me."

Thrasher snorted quietly and dodged away from his touch. "Sure," she grumbled. "That's why all we ever do is fight."

He snickered at that, and she scowled in return. "Yeah, people in denial tend to do that," he noted.

This was really starting to rankle her nerves...mostly because she was really starting to worry that he was right.

"You know," she said, rubbing her tired eyes, "when I first joined the team, no one was harder on me than you."

Darkstar snickered again. "Of course I was," he said, as if it were obvious. "You were better at pretty much everything than me. That was pretty embarrassing, you know. I felt I needed to give you a little payback for always wiping the floor with my sorry ass."

Thrasher sniggered in spite of herself. "So, where does that put us now?" she wondered, as she struggled to stop smiling.

He gave a shrug and reached to touch her face again. She decided to let him. "Now, I'm kind of tired of fighting. I've already had my heart stomped on, so I figured I've got nothing to lose if I throw myself at your feet."

Smiling faintly, he took a step closer and cupped her face in both hands. "Tell me to go, and I'll go. Whatever it is you want, I'll do it."

Thrasher swallowed with difficulty. "What do _you_ want?" she asked in a quiet voice--quieter than she'd meant it to be.

Smile broadening a fraction, Darkstar rested his forehead against hers. "You and me. Just like it was always supposed to be. That's all I want."

Thrasher swallowed again and closed her eyes, but she couldn't quite keep the threatening tears from rising up. "That's what I've been wanting, too," she whispered, sniffling.

Darkstar quickly kissed her tears away, though he paused near her mouth. "Stupid question time: why'd you chase after Bones for so long, then?"

"Stupid," she echoed, with a bitter laugh. "I won't lie and say I didn't care about him. I did--a lot. But I'm a stubborn Malone and I didn't want to admit that he'd never be mine. It was easier to keep chasing than to give up and say I was wrong."

"Yeah," Darkstar said wryly, "that's you all right." He softly kissed her lips. "What about after?" he asked quietly.

"It didn't matter. You were with Cecilia by then. So I basically gave up and pretended I didn't need anybody."

His expression turned sympathetic as he nuzzled her cheek. "And you've been alone ever since?"

"Pretty much."

"I'm sorry."

She breathed a sigh. "It's not your fault, it's mine. I should have stopped chasing Bones a lot sooner and seen what was right in front of me."

Darkstar lifted his hairless brows at that. "Miss Malone is taking responsibility? My, that's a switch."

Scowling, Thrasher gripped the front of his jacket. "Stop ruining the magic and kiss me already, idiot."

Grinning, he obeyed--unleashing almost the same level of passion as earlier. Moaning quietly, Thrasher felt herself melt in his arms, longing to give in to what was building between them.

But when he started nudging her bathrobe open, she squirmed free and shook her head. "I can't."

Darkstar looked terribly disappointed, but he backed off. "Why not?" he asked.

She shrugged and tightened her sash. "I can't take you to bed until I'm sure you won't be gone when I wake up."

Darkstar made a sound that was suspiciously close to a snort. "Is that all?"

Before she knew what he was doing, he had scooped her up, bridal-style, and carried her to her own bedroom. He had to backtrack a couple of times since he didn’t know the layout of her apartment, but he eventually found it and laid her on the bed.

After kicking off his shoes, he curled up behind her, coiling his arms around her waist and snuggling his head on her shoulder. Thrasher lay silently a moment, a blank expression on her face, before reaching back and giving him a sharp poke.

"No funny stuff," she warned.

Darkstar snickered and kissed her cheek. "Yes, dear."

* * *

When Thrasher opened her eyes the next morning, she felt more rested than she had in ages. She felt...safe. It had been too long since she woke up in someone's arms, and it was nice.

It was more than nice. As she wiggled around, twisting so she was facing him, she knew beyond a doubt that this was what she wanted to have. What she'd always wanted.

Throughout the night, Darkstar had abided by her warning and kept his hands acceptably to himself, though his arms had stayed wrapped around her as he slept. She honestly hadn't expected him to stay so well behaved, but...

He had respected her enough to wait. Not just for her body--for her. She didn't doubt now that he meant it when he said that he needed her, but even then, he didn't try to force her into something she wasn't ready to have.

Considering how many years they had wasted before getting this far, they had both waited long enough.

Smiling faintly, Thrasher scooted closer and softly kissed his eyes, until they fluttered open, blinking sleepily at her. A smile touched his face. "Think I'd like to wake up to this sight every morning," he mused sleepily.

Thrasher drew in a quiet breath and let it out slowly. "I'd like that, too."

Smiling broadly now, Darkstar tightened his arms and kissed her. He didn't do anything other than that, but Thrasher suddenly had the feeling that he didn't really need to; even during a chaste kiss and embrace, she could feel that same fierce passion from last night rising up to the surface, ready and waiting to be unleashed. If this was the way he always was... _how_ the hell could anyone think he wasn't enough?

Cecilia's loss, her gain, she thought absently as she nudged him closer, easing herself off her side until he was hovering over her. He broke away and let out a quiet sigh as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I still want the same things as before," he noted lazily.

"Uh-huh. The big yard, the picket fence, and kids. I remember."

Her smile warm, she kissed him again. "I want those things, too."

She didn't use to, but...as Darkstar had proven, time had a funny way of changing what you thought was important in life.

Darkstar grinned and pulled her closer--close enough for her to feel the heavy thump of his heart. She wondered if he could feel hers, beating rapidly as her breath quickened as he kissed and nuzzled the sensitive hollow of her throat. "And think about it," he said, grinning again, "what with you being my little junior trophy wife, we won't even have to adopt."

Thrasher felt her heart halt for a second before racing again. She wanted to laugh and slap him for poking fun at their difference in age...but she was too stunned by what he was suggesting.

"One step at a time, please," she said weakly.

She kind of wanted to get used to being married--wait, did he just propose in a really crappy way a second ago?--for a year or two before she thought about getting pregnant.

Darkstar seemed amused by her hesitation and continued to kiss down her throat, making a beeline for the easily parted front of her bathrobe.

"No harm in a little practice, right?" he asked slyly.

"No," she allowed slowly, "as long as my dad doesn't find out about it."

Darkstar stopped and sat up with a sputtering sound. "I forgot about that," he said weakly. "I can't marry you, that'd make Malone my father-in-law."

With a mock-whimper, he darted off the bed and fumbled for his shoes. Smirking, Thrasher sat up, grabbed him by the waist and yanked him back onto the bed. "Too late to back out now," she said, as she casually straddled him and pinned his wrists to the mattress. "He'll just have to get used to it."

"He's not the only one," Darkstar sighed, though he grinned a second later. "It's you and me, babe, just the way it was always meant to be."

Her heart swelling, Thrasher cupped his face in her hands as she dipped her head to kiss him. "Forever?" she whispered.

His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. "Wouldn't have it any other way."


	4. Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding is about to take place, and a new life is about to begin. Along the way, this won't be the only connection that is made.
> 
> Takes place several months after previous tangent. A romantic piece of fluff for fans of, um, romantic pieces of fluff. Sheesh, who writes these summaries, anyway? Oh yeah; me. Rated G.

Thrasher absently paced inside the enclosed foyer of the restaurant Regina told her to meet her at. She didn't cite any special reason for the meeting, but Thrasher suspected something was up.

Saying that there was something she needed to finish up at the center first, Regina told her to wait outside the restaurant if she wasn't there when she arrived. So Thrasher waited, though technically not outside. It was a damp, chilly day, with a thick gray-blue sky that kept sending down rain. It was a gentle kind of rain, though, little more than the misty spray produce stores used to moisten their displays of fresh vegetables. It was coming down frequently enough to dampen the sidewalk and leave small puddles on the pavement, though.

She was just turning around to pace back over to the end where the newspaper rack and gumball machines were kept when she spied a petite pink-orange figure scurrying up the walk. Even though she had quit being a model, Regina always looked polished, giving off a vibe of quiet sophistication even when she was dressed casually.

This morning she had on a classically designed cream-colored trench coat that hung to roughly mid-thigh, a blue, green and black plaid skirt that stopped just above her knees, and a glossy white pair of boots. They didn't have heels of any kind, but Thrasher still found herself thinking about ye olde go-go boots.

As Regina pushed open the glass door and stepped into the foyer, Thrasher watched her pull off her chunky white sunglasses with a smirk. "Trying to bring back the mod look, baby girl?" she teased.

"No," Regina responded crisply. "It's wet out there."

Grinning, Thrasher slid her arm around her baby sister as they headed into the main part of the restaurant. It was a fancy place, and ordinarily you needed a reservation, but the girl at the front desk only smiled as the two of them went by. Thrasher eyed Regina suspiciously. "Are you up to something?" she asked.

Regina tossed her sunshine yellow hair carelessly. "What could I possibly be up to?"

"Oh, I don't know...throwing me a surprise party?"

Regina gave a light laugh as she stopped at a set of double oak doors and pushed them open. "Don't be silly. Of course we are."

'We' turned out to be all the women in the family; Derikka, Trina, Emmaline, and Sherry. The room they were sitting in was small and empty of other patrons, with only a handful of round tables. Thrasher had a feeling that the entire place was reserved for them today.

It was very pretty, with cream-colored carpet and wallpaper striped with white, pink, and peach. The lower half of the wall was covered in glossy oak paneling that matched the doors. Chandelier-like light fixtures hung over the tables, which were draped in crisp white linen.

"Who told you it was my birthday?" Thrasher cracked as she and Regina joined the others at the table in the middle of the room.

"Is it that, too?" Trina joked. "We should have brought double the gifts, then."

Thrasher didn't think they needed to. Tables, chairs, and the floor were already covered in brightly-wrapped packages, complete with shiny bows and glittering ribbons.

Honestly, it was all a little _too_ pretty and feminine for her tastes...but she blinked back tears as she settled in her seat just the same. "Drinks first," she said firmly, grabbing an empty wine glass.

"Food before the fun?" wondered Emmaline, eyes dancing.

" _Always_ the food before the fun," Derikka said solemnly. "Builds character."

Trina snickered, while Emmaline gave her daughter a wary look. "You're going to behave today, right?"

"Absolutely," Derikka told her, batting her eyes innocently.

Trina and Regina snickered and whispered to each other, while a waiter came and gave them all menus. This is nice, Thrasher thought, as they all chatted while deciding what to order. It was nice to have a day with only other girls around, a quiet day that was, in its way, just for her.

"You think the guys are throwing Darkstar a party right now, too?" Trina wondered with a grin.

"Of course," said her mother, with a roll of her eyes. "Your father insisted on throwing it for him. He said it was high time, since he didn't get to have one for Bones, or for Dad, or...anyone."

Thrasher glanced at her, though she didn't say anything. Even after all these years, sometimes she had to stop and think, 'Oh yeah--she means _my_ dad when she says that.'

Not that she minded. Not anymore.

"Where are they having it?" Sherry wondered.

"Where else?" Derikka said, with another roll of her eyes. "Don't worry," she added, glancing at Thrasher with a grin. "I'm sure it won't get too crazy."

"Of course not," Emmaline said mildly as she folded up her menu. "Your brother is with them, and he's never been much of a partier."

"Even then, they'll have to behave. I left Sunni with Razor today."

Sherry coughed on the water she had been sipping. "You did not," she said, laughing.

"No, she didn't," said Emmaline wearily. "Sunni is with Mal."

A waiter came to take their orders and collected their menus, and chatter continued as they waited for their meals. At one point, Emmaline reached over and rested a hand over Thrasher's. "How are you feeling lately?" she asked, with a gentle smile.

Thrasher smiled warmly in return. "Anchored," she said simply.

Emmaline gave her hand a squeeze, knowing exactly what she meant. Still smiling, Thrasher held her hand a moment more before letting go. She and Emmaline had never really been close in the last twenty years, but...that was rapidly changing.

Thrasher hadn't felt this happy in a long, long time. That feeling of drifting aimlessly was gone now. She knew her place and purpose, knew the people she wanted to surround herself with...and knew the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

The thought made her heart give an excited flutter. At first, she and Darkstar talked about having the quick, no-frills kind of wedding...but then he changed his mind. He'd already had the briefest form of wedding possible, and he didn't really want that this time. "I don't want anything fancy," he told her, "but I still want it to be something special. I want all our friends and family there."

Thrasher had happily agreed.

Their meals came, and wine was poured into their glasses...though Thrasher couldn't help noticing that Derikka's glass was filled with a dark, fizzing liquid. "You think I should call up that husband of mine to make sure he's behaving himself?” Derikka asked, before sticking a straw into her wine glass.

"What do you think, dear?" her mother asked sweetly.

Derikka appeared to think it over for a moment. "You're right. I'll drop by in person when we're done here. Wives are _always_ a welcome sight at a raucous bachelor party."

Emmaline sighed and muttered something, while the rest of the table snickered, Thrasher included. Though they hadn't in a while, she and Derikka hung out frequently. They didn't have the kind of close relationship that she and Regina had, but that was fine. Derikka had always understood the boundaries that seemed to exist in Thrasher's life, and she respected them. Which was just what Thrasher liked about her.

They'd had a rocky beginning, but these days, the petite norm never hesitated when Thrasher called her up and invited her somewhere, something she did often when she didn't have anything else to do. Derikka was special that way. Sure, she could act childish and goofy--as could her husband--but deep down she had one of the most mature, together outlooks on life of anyone Thrasher knew. She was also one of the most loving--and forgiving--people Thrasher knew, which was why that weirdness between them in the beginning had long been buried and forgotten.

As for the weirdness and lack of closeness between her and someone else...someone who, technically, was her sister-in-law, since her husband was Thrasher's stepbrother. No need to mince words; she and Sherry had _never_ been close.

In fact, back when she first joined the team, Thrasher had practically hated the slightly older girl. It was a feeling fueled entirely by jealousy, and by the quiet rivalry that naturally existed between them thanks to Thrasher's less than subtle advances toward Bones.

When she found out they were together, Thrasher had blamed it on the fact that Sherry had met him first--known him longer. She knew now that that didn't have anything to do with it. Sure, it meant Sherry knew more about him, but that was only because Bones _wanted_ her to know the private things about him. No, Sherry had won him because she understood. She knew and understood the pain Bones kept bottled up inside, and how as important as it was to him to put his team on top, it still didn't match the importance he gave to digging up buried secrets and righting past wrongs.

Sherry knew, understood, and stood by him through it all...and just plain loved him more than Thrasher ever could have. All that was in the past now, of course--forgotten as Thrasher anxiously awaited her rapidly approaching wedding day. But did the old barrier she herself had erected between her and Sherry still stand these days? Pretty much, yeah.

Across the table, Sherry was sitting next to Trina, on the side of her usually reserved for Trina’s mother since Regina had forever taken up root on her other side. Thrasher had no idea what the reason for it was, but the pair, who had been as close as any other aunt and niece with over twenty years between them could be, had tightly bonded in the last few months.

They were talking together now, Trina leaning close to the slender blond and gripping her hand as she whispered something--something about Madboy, probably. Or not, since it was Sherry who turned pink and stifled a giggle behind her hand. Trina stretched out a hand and gave her a tight one-armed hug--and then burst out laughing.

Bewildered, Sherry glanced at Thrasher, who gave her an equally bewildered look in return. Trina continued to laugh, and Regina had her hands clamped over her mouth as she stifled her own giggles. Sherry suddenly snorted on laughter, which she quickly suppressed; frowning, Thrasher followed the trio's gaze across the table, where Emmaline had her head rested on her palm and was quietly shaking it, lips pulled into a tight pout of disapproval.

On the plate next to Emmaline's was a snowman carefully sculpted from mashed potatoes, complete with peas for eyes and buttons and a chunk of carrot stick for a nose. Derikka glanced up from her work, fork in hand, her round eyes the very picture of clueless innocence. "What?"

Thrasher laughed and shook her head. "Okay," she said, after taking a sip from her wine glass. " _Now_ it's time for fun."

Although it was soon--predictably--revealed that the kind of fun the shower gifts promised were reserved for her and her future husband. A wide variety of slinky lingerie, an assortment of exotic oils and bath salts, and a couple of things too embarrassing to name in front of her stepmother.

Only when she double-checked the tags later, Thrasher was a little surprised to see that her very favorite lingerie piece--a black teddy made from pure silk and trimmed with white satin and lace--had been from Emmaline.

There was also a plethora of the usual house wares; dish sets, small appliances, table linens, gift cards for bed and bath supply stores. When the day was finally over and all the gifts and boxes were packed into her car, Thrasher waved goodbye and drove to the place that would soon be her home.

She and Darkstar had picked it out shortly after they officially became engaged; a medium-sized house with a big front yard and an even bigger back yard, with a spot for a garden next to the porch and a swing seat hanging from the tree planted by the fence.

The house had a classic look on the outside and a more modern look and feel on the inside. One way or the other was fine with Thrasher, as long as it was built to handle its mutant occupants and visitors--which of course it was.

They hadn't officially 'moved in' yet, but they had done plenty of 'moving in' in the last couple of months. After unlocking the front door, Thrasher started carrying the most recent collection of boxes inside and set them next to the other boxes already piled in the various rooms. Both of their apartments were mostly empty at this point, the bulk of their belongings now here and waiting to be properly put away. After the honeymoon, Thrasher planned to throw a big housewarming party that would mostly just be to enlist her family's help to unpack everything.

After she set the last box down, Thrasher paused and looked around for a moment. It was just a jumble of cardboard boxes and other containers, but the sight made something inside of her quiver a little. She was just a few steps away from leaving her old life behind and moving into a new one. She felt like all she needed to do was shift her foot and she would be there.

That was practically all she needed to do. After proposing for real and giving her a ring, Darkstar claimed he wasn't interested in spending a lot of time on all of this. She had agreed--they had been working their way toward each other for so long there wasn't much point in a long engagement--and the wedding had come together swiftly.

It was going to be a small, family-and-close-friends-only affair, and they were going to have it in her father and stepmother's backyard. She didn't know how it was going to be decorated, and she wasn't supposed to; her bridal party was handling all that for her. She knew that Emmaline, who was in charge of the decorating committee, had impeccable taste and trusted her completely.

Outside, there came the low hum of a hovering car engine, and she turned from the boxes to open the front door. Darkstar swooped into her waiting arms and kissed her deeply, longingly for a moment. They broke apart reluctantly.

"So, how was the shower?" her fiancé asked with a grin.

Thrasher laughed softly and gestured to the new pile of boxes. "Fruitful. How was the, uh, manly soiree?"

Darkstar snorted. "As manly as a bunch of middle-aged men getting a sugar high from sucking down too much soda can be. And Bones made sure no one snuck in any strippers."

Thank god for Bones. "Too bad," Thrasher sighed, in the most insincere manner possible.

Darkstar snickered and nudged her. "Just think; in less than a week your long life as a free woman will officially come to an end."

Thrasher didn't smile as she turned to look at him, awash with the white light shining from the fixture above the front door. "Marrying you won't stop me from being free. I won't be single anymore, but when I'm with you, I feel more free to be myself than I ever have."

Darkstar blinked at her. "Jeez, why is it that lately whenever I try to make a joke, you get all serious on me?"

Thrasher just shrugged, a faint smile touching her lips. "Because I love you. Because you've always been the best part of my life, and I can't wait until you're truly mine."

Darkstar looked at her for a moment, his white eyes unreadable--and then he yanked her into his arms, his mouth clamping over hers. Thrasher let out a quiet sound of surprise before she relaxed in his grasp, letting herself enjoy the heated passion that always existed in his kisses.

She had already experienced that passion to the fullest several times now, and it never ceased to amaze her how it could flare up in a matter of moments, how it seared when it reached its peak. Reluctantly, she pulled back and wiggled out of his grasp.

"Come on, we need to save a little mystery for the honeymoon," she chided.

"What mystery?" Darkstar asked dryly.

She poked him. "Let the tension build, then. It's only for a few days."

Not that she believed that even months spent apart would do anything to stoke his already blazing passion any further. "Is this some kind of test?" he asked warily.

Snorting, Thrasher poked him again and turned to grab her keys. "No. I have to be up early tomorrow. I--have to pick up my gown."

There were dozens of other things needed, but something about that one thing...it made the reality she was facing leap into perspective. Made it real.

She must have looked a little dazed, because Darkstar suddenly put a hand to her face and tenderly caressed her cheek. "I hate sleeping alone," he said, with a small sigh, "but I suppose I really ought to wait until I've made an honest woman out of you. You know, before your daddy finds out. They'd never find the body."

Thrasher bit back a snort of laughter and shoved him. "Jerk."

"You know it."

He cupped her chin and kissed her a moment. "I've got things I need to do, too, so...see you soon?"

"Very soon," she reminded him wryly. "And after that, you're stuck with me forever."

Darkstar laughed and headed out the door. "I can't wait."

* * *

Thrasher's heart thumped in almost wild excitement as she gazed out the guest room window at the backyard. Everything was decorated beautifully, just like she knew it would be. White streamers hung overhead like a mock-ceiling, glass urns and vases overflowing with flowers were set out on the patio, white chairs were set out in rows that faced the garden...which was the place where she would in a matter of minutes speak her vows.

She had always prided herself on not being a flighty, giggly kind of girl, but that day she felt like any bride did; pulse racing and short of breath to the point she felt light-headed and giddy. Derikka kept telling her to hold still as she struggled to arrange her skirt properly, but Thrasher couldn't stop fidgeting.

Picking out the right gown had been a challenge, thanks to her athletic physique. Most of the time she looked kind of funny in dresses, which was why she avoided wearing them whenever she could. But with a little help from her bridal party--particularly Trina--she had selected a gown which had then been tailored specifically to fit her figure.

The sleeves were a glossy white, long with a puckered cuff at the wrist so they puffed a little at the ends. The upper part drooped from her shoulders, leaving them bare. The back was snugged tight, corset-like, with crisscrossing strips of satin ribbon, adding a sensual touch to the gown.

The glossy, fitted torso portion of the gown extended down her waist to her hips, where it then ended and allowed the flared, gauzy skirt to billow out--though not too much. Satin slippers decorated with beadwork were on her feet. In her hands she was holding a bouquet of sweet-smelling flowers colored pink, white, and cream; Regina was busy arranging the ribbons wrapped around their stems so they hung nicely. Derikka had finished with her skirt and was now hopping up onto a low stool so she could look over the state of her head, which was bare. "No pierced ears?" she wondered, sounding surprised.

Trina snorted. "Not in our profession. Too risky."

Her petite mother pursed her lips, while Thrasher watched warily in the mirror she was facing. "We've still got a few minutes," Derikka mused. "I'm sure Dad has a nail gun around here somewhere."

The other women in the room let out a chorus of shocked laughter before going back to work. Thrasher glanced at the pair by the bed, wondering what they were doing.

Choosing her bridesmaids had been easy. Choosing her maid of honor? Now that had been a challenge. Darkstar had it easy; he and Razor had always had a close friendship. Thrasher's first choice had been Regina...but then, she started to think. Her dad would probably really appreciate it if she picked Emmaline for matron of honor instead.

But this was her day, and her choice. And she decided it was long past time she built a bridge between her and someone she knew was kind, caring, and trustworthy.

With a warm smile, Sherry stood from the bed and came closer, a bundle of white and pink in her hands. "Here: we finished the veil."

Getting the veil to look right had almost been as challenging as picking out the right gown. It was easy for someone with actual hair to style. In Thrasher's case, she was stuck with one look and that was it, since she didn't actually have hair. It had never really bothered her--it was fuss-free that way--but today, she would have liked something different. Something pretty.

With Emmaline's help, Sherry placed a circlet of tiny pink rosebuds around her head. Cascading down from the circlet was a series of pink and white flowers, almost making a veil on their own as they lay softly against the yellow membrane around her head. The filmy, mostly transparent veil was attached carefully to the circlet and draped so it hung gently over the array of flowers.

Much like the cut of the gown drew the focus to her curves and not her muscles, the flowers pulled attention away from her non-hair. It was a soft, elegant affect, and Thrasher had to admit, she kind of felt like a princess.

Sherry was smiling and looking pleased with her work, and Thrasher found herself reaching for her. Surprised--but only for a moment--Sherry hugged her back. "Thanks for picking me," she whispered.

"Hey, we're family," Thrasher said mildly.

Her eyes turning moist, Sherry hugged her a moment more before stepping back. Her gentle blue eyes gave her the once over. "You look beautiful," she declared.

"She certainly does," Emmaline agreed.

Thrasher turned back to the mirror, though her eyes were on the redhead behind her. Emmaline had been so supportive, so motherly during all this...

A soft knock on the half-open door pulled her from her thoughts. "I'm ready," she called absently, assuming that her groom was getting impatient and had sent one of his groomsmen to check up on her.

Instead, her father stepped into the room. Something funny fluttered inside her, something that made her flush and glance at her slippered feet. It had been a long time since she bothered to make sure she had her father's approval about something, but something about him seeing her today, moments away from promising to love someone for the rest of her life...it made her feel like a little girl again, anxious and eager for him to look on her with pride.

He wasn't part of the actual wedding party, but he had on the same tux as the rest of the groomsmen. Clutched in his hand was a long, slender box of dark blue velvet. "There's one little thing missing," he said quietly.

Thrasher eyed him curiously, but he offered no explanation as he took her hand and guided her up onto the stool. He gently turned her to the mirror, then pulled something that glittered out of the blue box. Thrasher watched, lips parting in quiet surprise, as he placed a silver necklace around her neck. It had a teardrop-shaped diamond pendant, and smaller diamonds dangled from the twisted chain and glittered along its length.

It was both elegant and understated, and the prettiest piece of jewelry she had ever seen. Breath held, Thrasher placed a hand gently over it, somehow knowing in her heart that she was touching something very special. "What...?"

Her father's hands gently rested on her shoulders. In the mirror, his eyes were hard to read, as they always were. But there was a softness in his expression that she rarely saw. "It was your mother's."

Somehow, she had already known that. She swallowed and tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. But her father already knew what she wanted to ask.

"She wore it the day we were married," he told her quietly. "Then she put it away and said it would only come out again when she gave it to her daughter on her wedding day."

And so her father had kept it for her, all these years, quietly waiting for the day he could finally give it to her. Thrasher swallowed again, but it didn't stop the tears from filling her eyes. Sniffling, she turned and put her arms around his neck, pressing her face against his collar as she squeezed her eyes shut.

She almost never cried, and she didn't cry at any of the weddings that took place in the family over the years. Yet here she was, ready to start bawling at her own wedding, and it hadn't even started yet. But honestly? She didn't really care anymore.

"I love you, Daddy," she whispered.

He didn't respond, at least not with words. Instead he held her tightly, resting a hand on her head as his presence filled her with a sense of comfort. Someone rested a hand on her arm, and when she looked up Emmaline gently wiped away her tears with a soft handkerchief. She then took her hands and helped her down from the stool. Thrasher looked at her for a moment, thinking about all the ways the older woman had loved everyone over the years, herself included...and decided that if she'd built one long overdue bridge today, she may as well build another.

Sniffling again, she reached for her stepmother, who gladly pulled her into the circle of her arms. "Do you think," Thrasher said quietly, her eyes on her father, "she would mind if I started calling someone else Mom?"

Her dad rested his hands on her shoulders again as he gave his head a shake. "No. She knows you'll always love her, just like she'll always love you. She wants you--and all of us--to be happy."

Deep inside, Thrasher had always known this. And as she gently took the handkerchief from her stepmother so she could dry the tears flooding her ice blue eyes, she honestly couldn't remember why she'd fought so hard in the beginning. Whatever she'd been rebelling against just wasn't important anymore.

The two of them hugged again, with her father putting his arms around them both. When they finally parted, the other women in the room were struggling with their own threatening tears. "Okay, I'm tapped for ideas," Derikka said with a sniff. "Somebody else can lighten the mood for a change."

Trina appeared to think hard for a moment. "Anyone wanna watch me blow bubbles with my spit?"

Regina burst out laughing and shoved her. "No, thank you very much. Now come on."

She tugged the jade-skinned athlete out of the room. Straightening her bridesmaid gown, Derikka followed, with Sherry close behind. After drying her eyes, Emmaline smoothed Thrasher's gown and straightened her veil. "It's time," she said, smiling softly.

Thrasher gave a nod and made sure her own eyes were dry. "I know. Go on and sit down."

After kissing her cheek and squeezing her husband's hand, she breezed out of the room. Taking a deep breath, Thrasher took her father's arm and together they headed to the back of the house and stepped onto the patio together.

A small piano had been set out on the side, and Ed's fiancée, Lexie Holt, was seated on the stool. Thrasher didn't doubt her skill at the keys, but she had misgivings about the music selection. Budding pianist Sunni had picked the songs out, choosing several pieces written by someone named Gary Stadler. Thrasher was confident that the talented four-year-old had good taste, but...she had heard that this particular composer's work was known as 'fairy music.'

But as the procession started, Lexie began to play a quiet, gentle tune that seemed to blend perfectly with the sounds of the sunny afternoon; the gentle whisper of the breeze, the soft chirp of the birds, the rustle of plants and trees.

All of the guests were seated, comprised of family and close friends they had all made over the years, along with the current roster of Midway Monsters. The makeshift aisle was a wide strip of white cloth stretched across the lawn, with more urns full of flowers set on either side of it at intervals.

Accompanied by the sweet, dreamy music, Trina headed down the aisle first, led by a very happy-looking troll named Mo. They were followed by his equally happy-looking brother, who had petite Regina on his arm. The brothers had a special job today and looked tickled pink over it.

Following them in the procession was the twin brother-sister team, who paused to high-five each other before taking their places, which made everyone watching chuckle in amusement.

Next came little Sunni, who happily skipped down the aisle, leaving petals of fresh flowers in her wake. Laughing, Derikka picked her up when she reached the makeshift altar and held her close. Best man and matron of honor then headed down the now petal-strewn path, parting after Razor bestowed a brotherly kiss on Sherry's cheek.

Thrasher felt a swell of nervous emotion; it was finally time. With her hand resting on the crook of her father's arm, her slippered feet moved softly on the path of cloth, each step drawing her closer to the one about to become her husband.

When they reached the slightly raised platform, draped with more white cloth, her father gently lifted her hand from his arm and pressed it into Darkstar's waiting, upturned palm. He pressed his large gray hand over her smaller orange one for a moment, like he was trying to convey something without words. The look in his white eyes as he gazed at Darkstar didn't need any.

Take good care of her...or else.

Darkstar gave a solemn nod, and Thrasher passed her bouquet to Sherry before grasping her soon-to-be-husband's other hand. It was kind of funny, actually, standing up here with everyone. Except for Cannonball, who was sitting with the other guests next to his wife and growing brood of kids, all the old team was here.

It made her laugh softly, and Darkstar, who seemed to know just what she was thinking, snickered and brushed his nose against hers. They hadn't planned to, but as the music softly faded away and the ceremony began, the stayed together like that, foreheads rested against each other. Thrasher found herself closing her eyes as she listened to the voice of the pastor, quietly breathing in the aroma of flowers that hung in the air.

When it came time to exchange the rings, she let go of her groom's hands and turned around. Mo hurried forward and held out his cupped hands, displaying one of the wedding rings. Thrasher lifted it carefully and bestowed a kiss on his forehead, which made him scurry back to his spot behind Darkstar with a trollish giggle.

Smiling, she turned around again, and Darkstar faced her holding the ring previously guarded by Spewter. They exchanged the symbols of their love in turn, then grasped each others hands again.

When the pastor reached the part about 'if anyone knows a reason why these two people shouldn't be joined eternally,' Darkstar glanced at the spectators with his darkest, most challenging scowl. Instead of growing intimidated, the guests started to chuckle, as did the pastor.

"In that case, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Like the fiery mutant needed any encouragement. He kept the kiss acceptably reserved for today, though Thrasher felt warmth spread clear down to her toes as he cupped her face, tilted her head back and claimed her lips for the first time as her husband.

 _Her husband_ , she repeated in her mind. She had known him for so long and loved him so much--for a lot longer than she had been able to admit, least of all to herself--it felt a little strange to be at this place with him now. Strange...but wonderful and right at the same time.

When they parted she felt a little light-headed again, and she could barely feel the ground beneath her feet as the music started up again for their walk back down the aisle. When they reached the patio they were greeted by applause and a round of loving hugs and frequent congratulations.

After that the wedding party kind of broke apart. Sunni ran over to the piano to help Lexie with the tunes to play for the rest of the afternoon, Razor put his arm around Derikka, Sherry passed back the bouquet before she scurried happily back to Bones, the Puke brothers buddied up and made a beeline for the snack table, and Trina bounded over and threw her arms around Madboy.

Something about being at a wedding seemed to fan the flames of passion. While chatting with the others around them, the already existing couples kept gazing at each other with eyes full of adoring affection. At the moment, Thrasher's mind was on the couples that had most recently formed.

"Okay," she said with a sigh, looking down at her bouquet. "Is there anyone here not already married that I can give this to?"

"Not us," said Ed, who had joined Lexie and Sunni at the piano. "We're already engaged, so we're good."

"And not me," said Regina, with a small shudder. "I just got my life together for the first time, so I really don't want to have to shuffle it all around to make room for someone else in it. Not yet."

Smirking, Thrasher turned to Trina. "Looks like you're it. Here."

She casually passed her scaled niece the bouquet, while Madboy flushed in embarrassment. Thrasher thought it was awfully cute how easily that boy blushed, and judging by her smile as she took his arm and cuddled her head on his shoulder, Trina did too.

The patio was cleared for dancing and the chairs moved to the lawn, along with tables the guests could bring their plates made up at the buffet table to. Slipping his arm around her waist, Darkstar led her to the towering cake--handmade by her wonderful stepmother--and shared the first slice with her before helping her pass out slices to the rest of their guests.

Afterward they moved onto the patio where, with a sigh of complete contentment, Thrasher rested her head on her new husband's shoulder as they started the first dance. The other couples rapidly joined them, swaying slowly to the gentle, dreamy tune coming from the piano.

At one point everyone started laughing. Confused, Thrasher looked over and saw that Derikka was standing at the edge of the patio, and Razor was kneeling on the grass in front of her, one hand on her waist and the other gripping hers as they vaguely bobbed to the music.

Derikka let out a sigh. "I don't know what to be more annoyed by; his poking fun at my height or this thinly veiled excuse to put his head on my chest."

Thrasher laughed along with everyone else and cuddled against Darkstar again. "This has been the best day ever," she declared, with a happy sigh.

Darkstar kissed the top of her head before resting his cheek against her blossom-filled veil. The smell of slightly crushed flowers touched the air. "I'm glad you're so happy," he said in a soft voice--softer than she thought he could ever speak with.

She lifted her head, her eyes searching his earnestly. "You're happy too, aren't you?"

He smiled as he reached up to stroke her cheek. "Happier than I ever thought I'd be again. And I owe all of it to you."

Thrasher swallowed thickly, knowing what he meant. She was sorry he had been so hurt, but...she was so glad to have him here with her now. Hers and only hers from now on.

"I'll never leave you," she vowed in a quiet voice. "Nothing less than death could ever take me away from you."

Darkstar lifted a hairless brow. "That's...dramatic," he noted.

"It's the truth."

He looked at her a moment, then tenderly kissed his lips. "Thank you."

"Hey, don't thank me yet," she said, with a sly grin. "The day is far from over."

Darkstar smirked in return, knowing what she meant. "Speaking of that...when does our plane leave again?"

Thrasher just chuckled and rested her head on his shoulder again. She'd never felt so happy, so content, and life had never seemed so whole and so at peace. "Is it scary to start over again?" she wondered dreamily.

"A little. Not when it'll be with you, though."

Smiling, Thrasher slipped her arms around him and held him tightly. She liked this feeling, the way they were surrounded by all of their loved ones and yet in world set apart just for the two of them. If she had ever taken the time to picture it, this would be exactly how she would have always wanted her wedding day to be.

Along the whole, the events leading up to today had been something of a surprise. But sometimes, the biggest surprises were the best parts of life.


	5. It's not Eccentric, It's Delightfully Quirky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place several weeks after previous tangent. Rated G for General Audience and Goofiness.

Razor absently clucked his tongue as he paced the sidewalk that stretched between his house and Bones', hovering near the middle as he drifted back and forth, idly thumping the heels of his palms together from time to time.

He didn't have anywhere to be today, but he found himself alone this afternoon. And honestly, he had always been the kind of person who craved company, especially from loved ones. Some would go so far as to say that he needed near-constant attention, and maybe once upon a time that was true. These days he was content with the loving attention from his wife and four-year-old daughter, who had both run out the door without him a few hours ago.

With a sigh, he turned and paced back in the direction of Bones' house again. His best friend/brother-in-law wasn't home today, and neither was Sherry. Otherwise he would have invited himself over by now. But then his ears perked up as they detected the distinct growl of Bones' bike engine.

Razor waited by the curb, making sure to be seen as Bones whizzed by, then went back to pacing, though he didn't go far. A minute or two later Bones finished parking and headed out to join him, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his shoulder-length black hair as he approached.

Razor was glad his petite wife liked the fact that he was completely hairless. Otherwise he would be inclined to feel jealous of how cool the skeletoid looked when he did that.

"You look bored," Bones observed when he reached him.

Razor let out a grunt and slumped his shoulders. "Really? How'd you ever notice?"

Bones smirked in amusement. "Did Dare run off to some business thing and leave you all alone again?" he guessed.

Razor breathed a sigh. "Not this time."

Drumming his fingers on his hip, he absently glanced behind him at the house, but the driveway was still empty. "Libby's gone."

For a moment Bones looked surprised, then sympathetic. "Sorry to hear it."

Except for Emmy, pretty much everyone in the family had grown used to Derikka's pink pet snake, to the point she practically felt like a member of the family herself.

"How'd she take it?" Bones wondered.

"She was upset at first, and she spent most of the week being mopey, but today she up and decided it was time for a new pet."

"Not too surprising, really," said Bones. "Over twenty years is a long time to have one pet. Is she getting another snake?"

"That's exactly what worries me," Razor responded dryly. "She acted all mysterious and refused to let me come with, so that can only mean one thing."

Bones snickered. "Sounds like she's up to something."

"When isn't she?" Razor asked wearily.

Granted, his tiny wife's antics were exactly what he found so adorable about her, but...

Just then a white jeep came down the road and turned into the driveway behind Bones. "Hmm. Looks like somebody needs a foot rub," Bones noted, as Sherry stumbled out of the jeep, tugged off her heels and headed barefoot up the front walk. She looked a little worn out and sleepy, and Bones looked eager to pamper her as he headed home. "Let me know how things turn out," he called.

He sounded awfully amused, which made Razor flick his tongue out in annoyance before turning and walking back to his own home. He was just mounting the porch steps when an attention-grabbing pale pink sports car rounded the corner.

It was a newer vintage model than the ones she had driven in the past, but originating from circa 1998, it still counted as vintage. Like her twin and his wife, Derikka preferred rides with wheels.

As soon as the car parked, Sunni came running out with a slew of bags in each hand. "Come on, Daddy," she said eagerly, "help me set this stuff up."

He kind of wanted to stick around and see what his little minx of a wife had done now, but he just couldn't say no to his baby girl's smile, shining with childish excitement like that.

Inside the house, they headed through the kitchen and into the little hallway that held the alcove for the back door. The floor was linoleum and coats hung from hooks next to the door, and a mat for boots was underneath them.

It was here that they set out things like ceramic food dishes, a litter pan, and a small wire cage. There were also a few toys and a small pink collar with a tiny bell on it. Everything looked relatively normal, but the playful silence from both his wife and daughter had him suspicious.

"Did you get a cat?" he asked, gesturing to the pan Sunni was filling with litter. Only it wasn't regular cat litter; it looked like some kind of shavings.

"Too normal," Sunni declared, with a girlish giggle.

Razor had been a little afraid of that. Dishes for dogs and cats usually had things like paw prints painted on them. These, for some reason, had grass and a brown fence that looked like something you'd see in a barnyard.

Bubbling over with excitement, Sunni arranged everything carefully before running back out to the car. Derikka came in a moment later, a bag of pet feed in her hands, which she placed in a plastic container and sealed the lid for freshness.

"I'm guessing you didn't get another reptile," Razor noted as she brushed off her hands.

"What for?" Derikka asked, with a giggle that matched Sunni's. "I'm married to one."

She nudged him to lean forward and hopped to kiss his cheek. She then turned to place a fuzzy white cushion on the floor near the litter pan, and a plump pink pillow with white polka dots into the cage. Across the house, the front door opened and closed.

"I think that's everything," Derikka noted, as rapid footsteps scampered toward the kitchen. They were accompanied by another sound; a quiet snuffling, snorting kind of sound. Sunni entered the room a moment later, her dazzling smile doing her namesake justice as she cradled something small in her arms.

Something small, white, and covered in blue-black spots. Razor stared blankly as the creature, which looked smaller than his two fists together, continued to snort and grunt as it poked at Sunni's cheek. Sunni gave a happy laugh and kissed its pink nose.

Make that snout.

"It's a pig."

"A specially bred pig with mutant genes," said Derikka. "She won't get any bigger than twenty pounds or so."

"But...it's a pig."

"I picked her out," Sunni said proudly.

Derikka eyed his expression, her amusement thinly masked. "Are you about to suggest we take her back?" she wondered, as their tiny daughter rubbed her cheek against her new pet.

"And be banished to the couch forever?" Razor responded dryly.

"When have I ever done that?" Derikka asked, eyes dancing as she hugged him around the waist.

Never, come to think of it. "We wouldn't do that, would we, Sunni?" she asked.

Sunni shook her head. "I'd just cry," she said, and pouted her bottom lip as she batted her eyelashes.

Grunting, Razor rubbed his eyes. "Why did she have to inherit your powers of persuasion?" he asked wearily.

"Good genes. Don't worry, they're very clean and quiet. You'll barely know she's here."

Razor rather doubted that, but Sunni took the pint-sized creature--whom she named Buttercup--over to her newly designated area and showed her the dishes and litter pan. She stayed there the rest of the afternoon, and Razor eventually moved to the living room and relaxed with an old handheld game Derikka had lying around. He had to admit, it was acceptably quiet, considering.

With a sigh, he paused to rub his eyes again as a new thought struck him. "Dare," he called, "you _do_ know they're going to have a field day with this once word gets out, right?"

Derikka snorted as she came to lean against the doorframe, a freshly made fruit smoothie in hand. "This is definitely not the weirdest pet a celebrity has ever brought home," she remarked.

"Maybe not, but it still counts as eccentric."

Derikka laughed. "Nah."

She went back to sipping her smoothie, and to check on their latest addition. Later she and Sunni put up the safety gates they had used when Sunni was a baby to keep the little rooter confined to the alcove, and as he watched the glowing delight on his daughter's face as the two played, there was no denying his heart melted a little.

Enough for him to decide that this might not be a total disaster after all, and he left Sunni to put Buttercup to bed that night. He and Derikka soon retired to their own bed, where they curled up in each others arms and drifted peacefully off to sleep.

It was sometime early the next morning when he felt something wet nudge his cheek. Happy grunts sounded in his ear. "I better be dreaming," he said dryly, before opening his eyes.

Something white and spotted was lying on the pillow with him, curly tail wagging like a puppy. Curled up next to him, snuggled with the blanket beneath her chin, was Sunni. "We got lonely," she said, in her sweetest manner.

Razor glanced around for his wife, but she wasn't in sight. There was a suspicious lump under the covers, though--a lump that shook like it was trying hard not to laugh.

Razor looked at the pair of eyes blinking at him from the pillow again--who knew pigs had such long eyelashes?--before rolling over and grabbing the phone from the nightstand. He pressed the top speed dial button, then waited a moment for someone to pick up. "Yes?" said Bones, sounding like he'd just woken up.

"Just wanted you to know, I just woke up to find a pig on my pillow. How's your morning going?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all the seriousness I've been writing for this series, I thought it was time to do something completely ridiculous and utterly pointless. Mission accomplished!


	6. Downtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place a little while after...yeah, you know the drill. Rated G&C General Audiences&Cuteness.

Standing in the quiet kitchen of her home, Derikka hummed softly to herself as she stirred the powdery contents of a foil packet into the hot water she had just boiled. She then set the spoon aside and put on a timer for three minutes, the time the box for the therapeutic tea specified the powder to steep.

While she waited, she grabbed the box and glanced over the warnings on the back. "'Specially formulated for mutant consumption; norms are advised not to use this product at the risk of permanent brain damage and/or death,'" she read aloud.

Smirking, she pushed the box away and looked over at Sunni, who was perched on a stool with Buttercup cradled in her arms. "Pretty melodramatic just for a box of juiced-up Theraflu," Derikka commented.

Though she noticed that just breathing in the steam wafting off the top of the teacup was making her feel a little fuzzy-headed. The timer went off; she placed the cup on a tray, along with a bowl of soup and several slices of butter and jam-covered toast.

"Do we count?" Sunni wondered. "We're part mutant, too."

"True, but I think you and I can get away with plain old cold tablets."

Smiling, she urged her daughter to run out and play, then carried the tray out of the kitchen. And while the kitchen was quiet and peaceful...the master bedroom was anything but.

"First they figured out how to make it safe for mutants and norms to safely procreate artificially," Razor was grumbling when she nudged the bedroom door open with her hip. "And now they've just made a big breakthrough in vaccinating norms against mutated forms of bacteria. You would think," he groused, as Derikka set the tray down on the dresser, "that someone, somewhere, would finally figure out how to get rid of the common cold."

Derikka looked at her husband's reflection in the mirror above the dresser, sitting up in bed behind her, and couldn't quite hold back a snicker.

Razor scowled and folded his arms. "It's not funny," he muttered, before covering a set of coughs.

"Can't help it," Derikka said, sighing. "You're adorable when you pout."

Grumbling to himself, Razor scooted down so his head was on the pillow, arms still folded and nose wrinkled as he pouted all the harder. "Am not. And do you have to dress like that right now?" he asked, while she popped open the legs beneath the tray and locked them in place.

Derikka paused to glance down at herself, dressed in the lavender tank top, pink hoodie and white shorts she had absently tossed on this morning. Her feet were bare. "What's wrong with this?" she wondered.

Razor made a grunting sound that morphed into another set of coughs. "You've got a butt like that and you have the nerve to ask?"

Derikka hid a smile as she adjusted the layout of the tray, but it was a smile caused more by flattery than amusement. Razor was the only one she'd ever known who thought she was incomparably attractive. Until she met him, no one had ever called her beautiful--not her scattered handful of boyfriends, not any of the media hounds when they were kissing her butt. She had always been the 'cute' one.

Occasionally someone called her pretty, but never beautiful. Never gorgeous. Never sexy. Definitely never sexy.

It was one of the drawbacks of not ever growing tall. Shortness was one of those things that cursed you with the label of cuteness, and it was impossible to get rid of it. She had been too young at the time to recall how old she was when she discovered that it _was_ possible to make people forget, however briefly, but it was one of those life-changing moments you never forgot. She had been mad about something and acting up in public, and her mother had scolded her and said the words, "That's not cute."

Ironically, it was when she was being naughty that Razor thought she was at her cutest. Unfortunately, every other mutant athlete thought her behavior made her cute, too, and she had been relentlessly teased in the years before Razor retired. "Better take her home, it looks like it's past her bedtime," she remembered someone telling him with a laugh. Condescending and goading at the same time...weird.

Even Bones thought she was cute...when he wasn't calling her an obnoxious twerp. Hey, it took a lot of work to be this annoying.

As the first--and as far as she knew only--person to think she was beautiful...it made what she and Razor had seem extra special right from the start, like no one before or since had ever achieved such a connection. 

Her heart warmed as she turned away from the dresser, tray in hand. Smirking, she said, "Hey, I'm not the only tempting sight around here."

Her husband gave her a funny look before glancing down at his bare feet, black sleep pants and blue-and-gray baseball shirt. "I don't get the appeal," he said hoarsely, before reaching for a tissue.

While he blew his nose loudly, Derikka smiled and shook her head a little. No matter how confident in their looks they were, a guy never seemed to realize just how pounceable he looked when he was wearing an old, snug baseball shirt that so delightfully displayed the curves of his biceps, pecs, and broad shoulders.

"Come on, quit pouting and sit up," she said firmly.

With another grumble, Razor tugged the blanket up to his chest and mounded the pillows behind him before leaning back on them. Derikka set the tray down over his lap and nudged the teacup forward. "Now drink this already, the steam is making me see spots."

While her languorous husband, with a few more coughs and more grumbling, starting drinking his tea, Derikka knelt down beside the bed and rested her head near his arm. "Why are you so cranky, anyway?" she wondered.

Not to say that she was ever in a good mood when she was sick, either.

"Because I'm in as good of shape as ever," he groused, dunking a slice of toast into the tea. "I should be above some lousy germs."

Derikka hastily pressed her face against the blanket as a wave of giggles threatened to bubble up. "Stop, you sound like me."

"Can't be helped," Razor sighed. "I've been around you so long, I've absorbed all your most endearing qualities. Especially your bad habits."

"And I've absorbed all of yours," Derikka agreed, her sigh matching his. "And isn't bringing out the worst in each other the highest point of a marriage?"

Razor starting laughing and coughing at the same time, spilling some of his soup onto the tray as he jostled the bed. "Come on, quit trying to cheer me up," he scolded. "I'm not done being cranky yet."

"Sorry, can't help it," Derikka informed him as she scooted up closer, resting her head on the pillows. "I'm your loving wife. It's my job to pamper you."

"Hey, watch it," Razor warned, shying away as she leaned to kiss his cheek. "You'll wind up with my germs."

"Hmm...not possible," Derikka decided tartly. "I'm a Justice, and therefore not susceptible to mere germs and other mortal ailments."

After coughing again, Razor growled playfully and poked her ribs, making her jerk back with a squeak. "You're pushing it, Dare. Isn't there a rule about picking on sick people?"

"Nope. It's the best time to do it, in fact. Gives them even more incentive to get well again. You'll never catch me to give me the spanking I'm asking for the way you are now."

Razor opened his mouth to say something, but Sunni ran into the room just then, hugging Buttercup to her chest. "Mommy, you're not supposed to ask for spankings," the four-year-old declared, nose wrinkled.

"Well, the truth is, angel," Razor told her in a solemn tone, "is that your mother is actually very strange. And a terrible example, too. You're better off learning from your uncle."

Derikka snorted and poked his underarm, making him flinch and spill more soup. "Look who's talking."

Sunni pouted her lips. "You're both silly," was her assessment. "But here, I got these for you."

She placed a handful of wildflowers on the nightstand and scurried out of the room. Looking touched, Razor placed one on the tray before going back to his lunch. "She brings me flowers and you pick on me. I think we both know who I'm spoiling as soon as I'm well."

"Hey, the whole reason I'm here is so _I_ can spoil _you_ ," Derikka informed him crisply.

"Then how come all you've done since you came in here is annoy me?"

Scoffing, Derikka poked him again. "And whose fault is that?" she wanted to know. "You knew I was annoying long before you married me."

With a sigh, Razor put the tray aside, then hooked his hands under her arms and tugged her up onto the bed beside him. "I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment," he said, brushing the bridge of his brief nose against hers.

Derikka cuddled her head against his chest and slid her arms around him with a swoon-like sigh. "You always were so very eloquent when it comes to being romantic," she noted dreamily.

Razor snickered and coiled his fingers into her hair. "Hey, it takes sarcasm to know sarcasm, babe."

Derikka just smiled and tightened her arms. He did so much for her every single day, and he never hesitated to spoil her rotten any time the chance arose, so...it felt nice to be in the position to pamper and spoil him for a change.

"Seriously now," she said, kissing his cheek before sitting up. "I'm your slave for the day, here to wait on you hand and foot. I'll do anything for you."

Razor rolled onto his back and appeared to think hard for a moment. "Remember how you said, years ago, Heather wanted to be a cheerleader for the Mutant League?"

Derikka quickly saw where this was going and scarcely withheld a shudder. "Uh, anything within reason. And didn't you just say that my shorts are too much for you right now...?"

Snickering, Razor reached for her and pulled her to his chest against. "Kidding," he said, coiling his arms and tail around her. "If the risk of germ exposure doesn't bother you, I wouldn't mind if you just stayed right here. You know, just until I fall asleep."

Derikka smiled softly as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Fine by me. In fact," she said as she tightened her arms around him, "I think I'll be staying for much, much longer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got one more one-shot I want to squeeze out, and that's it. Honest.


	7. River Of Our Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I've come to the sad conclusion that When Love Comes Undone will never be finished. I meant for this tangent to cap off the end of the series, but since the series will (technically) remain unfinished, I decided to just go ahead and post it. The part of WLCU this relates to has already been posted, so it doesn't really matter either way. Enjoy.

Thrasher stomped into the kitchen one bright and sunny morning, snatched the newspaper her husband was reading out of his hands and slammed it down so hard the reinforced metal-and-alloy table shuddered unhappily. "I'm going to kill you."

Darkstar blinked at her impassively. "Okay, but before I go fill out my will and all, can you at least tell me why you're doing me in?"

Growling lowly, Thrasher folded her arms and scowled. "Guess."

She impatiently tapped her foot while Darkstar continued to blink at her, the very picture of cluelessness. His brow furrowed a little as his eyes drifted over her, trying to figure out the source of her displeasure. Grunting in annoyance, she helped him out by unfolding her arms and jabbing a finger at her flat midsection. His hairless brows rose as his eyes jerked up and locked with hers. "Really?"

She scowled harder in response--then let out a yelp as he reached over, grabbed her by the waist and yanked her into his lap. "That's so great," he exclaimed as he cuddled her in his arms.

"Great?" Thrasher echoed in shock. "We agreed, buster--no working on the kids until after a year of marriage."

"Okay, so we skipped ahead a few months," he said, snickering. "It's not like we were being overly cautious."

Unfortunately, that was true.

"And how is this my fault?" he wanted to know. "Takes two to tango, babe."

Thrasher grumbled and didn't respond. Darkstar grinned and kissed her. "Look at it this way," he told her, "by the time this kid gets here, we'll be married for a little over a year."

"Uh, that's _not_ what I meant."

He snickered and kissed her again. "I'm so glad I married you," he commented, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Yeah," Thrasher said softly, her annoyance melting. "Me too."

Still, it was going to take her a while longer to get used to the idea of being a mom. It was a concept she freely admitted scared her a little--as fearless as she liked to think she was. This wasn't like facing down someone three times her size or so on the field. This was bringing a tiny, helpless person into the world, someone who would depend on her for everything--and already did.

Before the day was out she had made a list of things she was concerned about, like what foods she should and shouldn't be eating, what kind of vitamins she should take, what types of exercises--if any--were safe to do. She was so uncertain about so many things she tossed and turned in bed that night...to Darkstar's annoyance. "If you're so worried," he said groggily the next morning, "why don't you ask somebody for advice?"

She'd been thinking the same thing, but...

"Like who?"

"How about your stepmom?" he suggested. "She's had thee kids, so I'm sure she knows plenty."

An excellent suggestion. So, after eating breakfast and changing into something nice, she drove straight over to the quaint cottage house where her parents lived. As soon as she broke the news, Emmaline gave her a huge hug...while her dad had a different reaction.

"I'm not ready to be a grandfather," he said dully, looking dazed.

Thrasher snorted. "You mean you're not already? What about Ed?"

"Doesn't count. He's adopted, plus Bones isn't my son."

Thrasher pursed her lips, while Emmaline shook her head and hid a smile. "Tea?" she asked, as she headed to the kitchen. "It's decaf."

Was caffeine bad to drink during pregnancy? She'd have to ask. "Yes, please." She turned back to her father. "Okay, what about Trina and Sunni? She's not blood, but you _did_ legally adopt Derikka."

"Legally," he allowed. "Still not biological."

Thrasher snorted and turned to go help her stepmother in the kitchen. "Well, too bad, Dad, your days of living in denial are about to come to an end."

Emmaline laughed softly and passed her some tea in a pretty china cup. "I'm over it," she said. "I like being a grandmother."

Thrasher smiled and gave her another hug. "Good. Now that that's out of the way...maybe you can give me a little advice?"

Emmaline beamed. "I'd be delighted to."

* * *

Thrasher knew that motherhood would change her life, but she hadn't realized until she was actually a mother-to-be just how _fast_ everything changed. As soon as word got around, people started acting differently around her. She started being referred to as 'you two' and 'them' instead of just a single person. Her brothers opened doors and pulled out chairs for her...to say nothing of how Darkstar began to pamper her.

Changing her diet wasn't that big a deal, but giving up her strenuous exercise and weight-lifting routine in exchange for something mommy-friendly felt more than a little strange. And in just a few short weeks, the change started to show as the bulk of her muscle mass began to dwindle.

"You're just lucky I love you so much," she groused one night as she and her husband crawled into bed.

"Or what?" Darkstar wondered, white eyes dancing.

"Or I'd castrate you?" she suggested sweetly.

He just laughed and tugged her into his arms. "Like that didn't already happen to me at least a dozen times before I retired."

As the weeks went by, she slowly grew used to being a 'them,' to visiting the doctor frequently, to the mounds of toys and baby things that seemed to pile up around her as she sat in the living room, poring over pre-natal care books.

And then one day she made the weirdest discovery. She was home alone--Darkstar was off coaching at some high school somewhere, something she was taking a break from for now--and surveying herself in the bedroom mirror. She was only a few months along, and according to what she had been reading, purely-mutant mutant babies grew at a much more normal pace than mutant-normal hybrids did. Which meant she got to look forward to a much longer term than the four to five months the other women in the family got to enjoy--maybe even the full nine. Fun.

She wasn't really showing yet, but as she ran a hand over her bare middle and scrutinized herself, she would definitely say that her waistline had grown thicker. Not so thick that she needed to get a different wardrobe, but still enough for her to notice.

She thought about the cause of her weight gain, pictured this person that was growing inside her--and felt the strangest burst of warmth in her heart, a warmth that wasn't quite like anything she had ever felt before. And then it hit her.

She loved her baby. Loved this special little being she and her husband had made together, even if they hadn't meant to at the time. So maybe it was a little sooner than she originally planned...what difference did it make? She wasn't so young anymore, so if the time was now, it was now.

When Darkstar came home later, he found her curled up in the living room with a book of baby names. "Hey, good idea," he noted, as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. "We need to find something good and masculine."

"If we were having a boy," Thrasher said mildly.

"Aren't we?"

She shook her head. "Nope. We're having a girl, and we're naming her Hope."

"Do I get a say in this?"

"Of course. Just not the final say."

Darkstar snorted. "Cute."

"I thought so."

* * *

Within another few weeks, Thrasher's waistline had thickened up enough where her normal clothes didn’t quite fit anymore. Emmaline and Derikka both had plenty of leftover maternity clothes...but since none of them would come close to fitting her, they treated her with multiple gift cards instead. Aside from clothing stores, a few baby stores were included in the bundle, along with a handful of free lunch and dinner coupons for her favorite restaurants.

After spending an afternoon shopping, Thrasher walked alongside a chic mini-mall for a while, wondering where she should stop for lunch. One of the coupons was for a place she didn't know much about, and when she spied it on the corner she thought it looked a little too fancy for her taste...but as she went past the big picture window, she spied rows of desserts in a case by the cash register. Her pregnancy cravings had long since kicked in, and today they were telling her to go in and order the biggest, gooiest chocolate dessert on the menu.

She was soon sitting down in a booth by the window with a mound of cake filled with chocolate pudding on her plate and a small decaf coffee on the side. The place had a café-like atmosphere, with checkered floors, Tiffany-style lamps, and gauzy lace curtains. Ivy plants hung from the ceiling in brass pots, and quiet classical music drifted over the overhead speakers.

It was a relaxed, cozy kind of environment, and Thrasher settled back and started nibbling at her dessert--carefully so not to mess up her brand new shirt. It was white with elastic gathers at the bust, leaving the rest loose, like a baby-doll shirt, with spaghetti straps. It was a different look for her, but it went nicely with her jeans, and it was stylish yet comfortable without screaming 'look, I'm pregnant!'

The little bell above the front door suddenly jangled, but she didn't think anything of it--and then someone plunked down in the seat across from her, just as she was taking a sip of coffee. For all her life, she had firmly believed that spit-takes only happened in movies...but that day she very nearly made one of her own.

Because sitting in the booth with her was Cecilia Wintercrest.

She was dressed in her usual crisp white skirt and jacket set, and smiling as if showing up like this was the most natural thing in the world. Her normally blond hair was swirled with hot pink and pale green.

Oh god, that hair of hers...what did all those colors mean again? She had never taken the time to memorize them all, but she clearly remembered the ones she had seen the most over the years. Pale pink meant she was thinking something dirty, red meant she was in the mood and ready to drag somebody off to the bedroom, purple signaled romantic feelings, and...hot pink meant family-and-friend orientated affection.

That was a good sign, but what the hell did the green mean?

"Hey," Cecilia greeted, again acting like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she hadn't run off to Europe months ago after divorcing her husband of twenty years, with no one hearing a peep from her since. "You look good," she added, still smiling.

Thrasher gave herself a shake. "Uhhh, thanks. What..."

She had never been one to beat around the bush, so she jumped straight to the point. "What are you doing back on this continent?" she asked. "We were all of the opinion that you had left everything and everyone from your old life behind."

Cecilia let out a quiet laugh and tapped her perfectly manicured fingers on the tabletop. "I know this must seem pretty strange, but..."

She fidgeted again, and more green split into her hair, overtaking the pink. Thrasher stared--and then it hit her. She was nervous. Calm, shameless Cecilia was nervous. She had never seen her act like this before, so Thrasher could only come to one conclusion. "I guess this means you know. About me and Darkstar."

Biting her lip, Cecilia nodded. "I saw it on the news. Congratulations."

Thrasher snorted. "You came all this way just to tell me that?"

"No. Though I did come to tell you something else."

"You could have just phoned," Thrasher pointed out dryly.

Cecilia shook her head. "This is something that can only be said in person. I hope you'll listen."

Her expression turned earnest--hopeful--while slender streaks of gray and white coiled through her hair. Thrasher studied her for a long moment before finally settling back in her seat. "Okay."

Taking a quiet breath, Cecilia folded her hands on the table. "You probably think I'm horribly selfish," she began.

"It crossed my mind, once or twice."

The older woman smiled at that. "I suppose I am, in a lot of ways. But not in this. Letting Darkstar go was one of the only unselfish things I've done in my entire life."

Thrasher thought about how miserable Darkstar had been during their divorce and snorted again. "If you say so."

"I do. Because I knew I could never give him what he wanted. It was better to let him go, to give him to someone I knew he would be truly happy with."

This admission caught Thrasher by surprise. "Did you...know that person was me?" she asked hesitantly.

The two of them had lived in denial for so many years, it would just figure that someone else had seen what they didn't--or rather what they had refused to see.

"I had an inkling," Cecilia said. "He didn't often talk about you, but when he did, it was only to praise you. I got curious and brought you up from time to time; his face would always light up."

The idea of her husband secretly pining for her during his previous marriage made her cheeks warm pleasantly. Still...

"I'm not going to give him back, or share him, if that's what you’re getting at."

Cecilia laughed and shook her head. "I'm not _that_ crazy," she declared. "No, I just wanted to explain to you why I did what I did."

"Shouldn't you be explaining it to Darkstar?"

Cecilia smiled thinly. Her hair was a more neutral color now, a sign that her mood had calmed, evened out. "I wanted to, back when I first told him it was over, but I didn't think he'd listen. So I thought I'd tell you...and if you want to tell him, that's up to you. At least he'll listen to you."

A waitress suddenly came over to their table. Cecilia ordered a small latte and waved her away. "Did anyone ever tell you about Heather?" she asked.

Thrasher blinked in surprise. "Your little sister? Derikka mentioned her, once or twice, but...that was about it."

"I figured as much. Talking about deceased friends and relatives isn't something most people usually toss around in casual conversation."

Thrasher waited, wondering where all this was going. "So, I'm guessing no one ever mentioned to you that I lost my parents when I was fresh out of college," Cecilia added.

"Ummm...no."

Thrasher fidgeted. "Did you? I'm sorry."

Cecilia snorted. “So was I. Don't get me wrong, I loved Heather to pieces, but I was just starting out on my own. Just starting to build up my own life. I wasn't ready to raise my baby sister on my own, but...I didn't really have a choice."

Her dessert forgotten, Thrasher stared off into the distance while the waitress delivered Cecilia's latte. Suddenly, something clicked. "So when Darkstar mentioned wanting to become a parent," she said hesitantly, "you had basically already been one."

"Exactly. I'm guessing he wanted to adopt with me, since I'm too old to have kids myself, but..."

She gave her head a shake. "I couldn't do it. I would be a horrible mom. I can't say if Heather turned out all right, since she isn't here anymore, but...she wasn't raised by just me. I didn't just take her along on all my business trips to Europe for fun when I could have left her home with a sitter. It was good for her to spend time with Min. Even with things going so wrong between her and Butch like they did, she was a thousand times better at being a parent than I could ever be."

Thrasher snorted. "Things wouldn’t have gone wrong between them if..." Grunting, she shook her head. "So I get why you didn't want kids, but..."

"But why leave my husband altogether?" Cecilia supplied, smiling sadly. "Because I couldn't give him the kind of commitment he was looking for. You see," she began, after taking a sip of her latte, "he and I had an understanding. We weren't like couples who lived together, and celebrated their anniversary together, or expected each other to call at least once a day... He didn't want that, and neither did I. I've never wanted that, so when he changed his mind...I just couldn't give it to him."

She shrugged and smiled sadly. Thrasher gazed off into the distance again, absently popping the last of her cake into her mouth as she processed all this. "I know you two never really connected like a regular couple," she faltered, "but...you didn't, you know..."

"Sleep around on him? Heck no. That's one thing that's been making my nights without him more than a little miserable; nobody on any continent I've visited comes close to a fraction of his sexual prowess."

Thrasher warmed a little, knowing just what she meant. "I can imagine how downgrading would suck," she noted.

"No joke. It was tempting to cling to him just for that, but...as I said, I needed to be unselfish for once."

Thrasher thought about that for a moment. Thought about what she would be giving up if she didn't have Darkstar anymore. And it was a lot more than just his body and the amazing things he did with it. "But didn't you love him? Even a little bit?"

Cecilia's hair flooded with grayish-white. "Of course I did," she whispered, her eyes growing moist. "I still do, a little. I probably always will. But I have more problems than just not wanting another kid."

"Commitment troubles?" Thrasher guessed.

"Exactly. And maybe that's weak, and cowardly, but...I've lost almost every single person I've ever loved and let myself get close to, and not just my parents and sister. I can't say that's why I started loving men and dumping them--I've always been a bit of a whore, I admit, but it made me much more comfortable to never get attached. To never put myself in a place where I could be hurt again."

"You got kind of attached to Darkstar," Thrasher pointed out.

"Kind of. A little. But I only married him because I knew it wouldn't change our relationship. We still kept parts of our lives strictly separate, never fully coming together, never truly meshing. Not really."

"So, when he said he wanted you to get a house and start a family, that all changed."

Cecilia nodded. "Sure, I could have just told him to forget it and let things go on the way they were, but...I just couldn't. I could tell he was growing unhappy with the way we were living, and I knew no matter how hard I tried to, I'd never change. And so I let him go."

And while it had hurt him at first...he was happy now. He had just the kind of life he wanted. They both did.

Cecilia, on the other hand, didn't look at all happy as she wiped her eyes and stood. Thrasher suddenly felt sorry for her. She had been mad at her for what she did at first, but...she couldn't feel mad anymore.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Yeah," said Cecilia, sniffling. "Me too. And I'm glad you finally found each other. I know you'll take good care of him."

With this remark, she turned and left. And Thrasher never saw her again.

* * *

That evening, Thrasher paced by the front door until Darkstar came home, throwing her arms around his neck the second he came through the door. "What's wrong?" he asked, a touch of alarm in his voice.

"Nothing," she whispered, sniffling.

"Hey--you don't tear up over nothing."

She forced a laugh and hugged him tighter, burying her face in his shirt. "Just hormones," she said lightly.

Darkstar rested his hands on her shoulders and nudged her away a little, then cupped her chin and tilted it back until their eyes met. "You sure there isn't something I should know?" he asked suspiciously.

Someday, she thought. She'd tell him someday. Right now...she just couldn't. He was so happy about their baby, she didn't want to drag up bad memories from the recent past. So she smiled, her eyes moistening again, as she reached up to cup his face.

"Just that I love you with all my heart," she said softly. "And that I will never, ever leave you."

"I know," he said, looking surprised. "You're a Malone, you never know when to quit."

Thrasher snorted, but she smiled as she tugged him closer and kissed him. Darkstar murmured his appreciation against her mouth for a moment, then smiled as they broke apart.

"You know," he said, as he casually lifted her in his arms, "you're the nicest little trophy wife a guy could have."

Thrasher chuckled and rested her head on his shoulder. "I know, you big goon. I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unless I actually finish WLCU, this is the end. Unless, you know, I get other ideas for my most beloved cartoon series one day...


End file.
